Rise of a New Fox
by The Pen Vs The Sword
Summary: The children of the Star Fox crew attends the famed Cornerian Academy, looking to follow in the team's footsteps. However, that day comes sooner than any of them planned when a new threat emerges without warning. A fledgling team will rise and a fox will be called to lead...
1. Chapter 1: Academy Half-Day

**A/N:** So, Pen…

 **Pen:** *looks at the title* Oh, crap. Please tell me this won't be as long as the other one.

No, no, no. But we did notice that there is an event that's sort of skimmed through for Star Fox regarding Marcus and his ascension to the new Star Fox team.

 **Pen:** *sighs* When should I expect—

 **Sword:** *flies by in Arwing* Bogies on my tail.

 **Pen:** And there it is. Fine. Marcus, Fox, Krystal, and all these others belong to Nintendo. The story, Sword, and I'm sad to say myself belong to the author. Please do not use without permission.

Thank you and please enjoy.

 **Chapter 1- Academy Half-Day**

Marcus stretched and tried not to sprint from the classroom, knocking everyone out of the way in his joy to be free of the shackles of the droning professor and his large auditorium-sized classroom. All throughout the scientific lecture, his eyes had drifted to the airfields across the freshly cut lawn. Rows upon rows of the latest Arwings, primed, fueled, and gleaming in the bright sun, ready for an eager pilot to fly them into the air, begging him to hop in the seat and feel the rumble of the engines, the aircraft as giddy as he always was right until the thrusters kicked in and threw him back against the cushioned seat. Breaking through the clouds, the atmosphere, going faster than the speed of sound? There was nothing like it.

He stuffed his books into his knapsack, slung it over his shoulder, and descended the stairs. "I seriously think he started repeating himself," an orange toad said, joining him as they left the classroom. Like everyone else, he wore a blue academy dress shirt and slacks, and like Marcus, the silver chevrons on his shoulders indicated he was a second year. He pushed up the brim of his faded brown ten-gallon hat. "That or it's a sense of, um, what's it called?"

"Déjà vu?" Marcus offered.

"That, yeah," he said, yawning and rubbing the dull haze out of his round eyes. "The sensation that I've heard this nonsense before."

"Actually, it's very practical knowledge," another second-year said, walking beside them down the hall. The hare stood taller than Marcus by about a head. "Especially the chemical applications he talked about." She looked at both of them, waiting for some acknowledgement, but they shrugged. "Such as the bombs they employ for the Arwing squadrons?"

"Oh, so there _was_ something interesting," the toad said. "I'll need to thank him for that. It's the only thing that woke me up and restarted my heart after I died from sheer boredom."

"Well, you don't have to worry about dying again, Tad," Marcus said. "It's a half-day, remember?"

"Of course I do," Tad said. "That's all that kept me going through today."

Outside, the sidewalk led to a central courtyard that split off to all the buildings, hangers, and other areas of campus. Painted across each building and emblazoned across the Arwing insignia of the courtyard was "Cornerian Academy", as if the students would forget where they were.

Dozens of the students were already congregating by the open bronze gate off to the east side, not even bothering to return to their dorms to drop off their belongings or change outfits. They were ready to be as far away from this place for as long as possible, stretching their legs and their pent-up energy. As the students waited for the city bus to arrive and take them to Corneria City proper, a few instructors were lecturing them on maintaining proper behavior in the city. Phrases like "You represent this great academy everywhere you go" and "If you dare besmirch this academy's fine name, you will run laps until this planet goes supernova, so help me!"

"Nothing like spoiling the mood before we go," Tad said.

"Maybe you should listen to it," the hare said. "Might curtail some of your debauchery."

"What are you talking about?"

Marcus rolled his eyes and nudged his friend. "Come on. Don't tell me you don't remember the waitress last time we went to the city. How you convinced her to slip you a few Fichina Funtimes? And what happened after?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, feigning ignorance. Then a sly smile curled up his lips. "Although, if such a rowdy time did resulted from said drinks—which I'm not saying it did—then I also don't remember the waitress having any complaints."

Marcus snorted, hiding his laugh from the hare. "Well, we certainly did, dragging your drink carcass back here, all so you could throw up on Marcus and me," she said.

"Haven't been able to wear that shirt since," Marcus said, remembering the old shirt his father had given him. "It still smells like barf."

"I said I'm sorry already," Tad said.

Marcus waved him off. "It's fine. Besides, you weren't the only one hitting on someone that night." He glanced at the hare.

"What?" she asked.

"The cab driver who brought us back?" he asked, reminding her. "You were all smiles and so talkative with him. Called him back at all?" Her red face told him all he needed to know.

"Still not as bad as Tad."

"Fine," Tad took a knee in front of the hare, pulled off his hat, and held it to his chest apologetically, "on my honor ma'am, I don't know what came over me last time. The stress of being cooped up in this place, I reckon. But I promise you, as sure as the sun does rise in the morning, I will control myself. For you, my dear Vivian," he took her hand and planted a playful smooch on her knuckles, "this I will do."

"Cute," she smirked and playfully curled the white lock dangling down her forehead around her finger. "Now why don't you mosey on up to town and fetch us some cornbread? Pa'll be home soon and Mary-Sue's got the stove already a-goin'."

They laughed, but what Tad said struck a chord within Marcus. He paused, as they walked ahead. A few moments passed before they noticed he was far behind them. "Marcus?" The vulpine raised his head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, catching up with them. Vivian's eyes bored into him, waiting for an answer. "Just, something that Tad said. He's right. We have been cooped up in this place. How many flight hours have we logged this year? Since we've been here?" He didn't give them a chance to answer. "I can count them on less than one hand."

"They have to prepare us," Vivian said. "Flight combat and experience isn't something you can just pick up and do."

"Unless it's in your blood." Tad wrapped an arm around Marcus' shoulders. It was true enough. The sons of the legendary Star Fox team members, flying had burned in Marcus' and Tad's veins since they were born. Marcus always loved being in the sky, flying free like his father used to do. And Tad had proved to be more adept and cool under pressure than Uncle Slippy. "And we got the experience."

Vivian scoffed. "Your dads letting you fly their ships while you sit in their laps doesn't count."

"Hey," Marcus said. "I have flown without my dad before coming here." He didn't mention that it was only when he secretly stole into his father's Arwing when he was ten and managed to scoot along the ground at a few inches before his father jumped in the cockpit and saved him from the stupid stunt. "Come on. You're honestly telling me you don't wish they would give us more flight hours?"

"Well," she tilted her head, her face scrunched up as if hating to admit he had a point, "yes, of course, but they will when we're ready. In the meantime, there are plenty of interesting subjects to take besides flight training."

"Right. Like the mechanic's garage. Why fly your Arwing when you can work on it and look at it? Pretty soon, we'll be like Uncle Peppy and his model planes." Tad shivered, then pushed open the door to their dorm. They dropped off their belongings and changed clothes.

Marcus checked himself in the mirror and bothered to run a comb through his white bang. It curled back into place like before and he sighed. _Not really looking forward to this_ , he thought.

When they regrouped with Vivian, she hopped ahead. "Just got a call from my mom. They should be arriving any second."

"Great," Marcus said, grimacing a small smile. "Can't wait."

* * *

The Great Fox lumbered into the gleaming central spaceport of Corneria City. Once it docked and settled in with a heavy _thump!_ , the ramp on the side extended to the ground. Fox stepped out of the ship, removing his shades and admiring R.O.B. 2.0's parking job. The alignment was a little off, but nothing that Slippy couldn't adjust in the robot's functioning.

Behind him, Krystal also exited. He took her hand, guiding her down the ramp as the rest of the crew descended as well. At the bottom, Fox looked around, tucking his shades into his flight jacket. Slippy and Amanda passed him and helped Peppy, as the old hare had traded his cane in long ago for a hover chair custom built by Slippy. His daughter Lucy strode beside him, confirming the meeting spot with their kids.

It always felt a little odd coming here these days, where they weren't immediately swarmed by grateful citizens for saving the city. They were treated as any other traveler, with the odd glance in their direction from others trying to place where they knew the Star Fox crew from.

He shook his head. _Don't think about it too much or you'll turn into Falco._

"You okay?" Krystal asked.

The orange vulpine nodded and started forward. "Yeah, just reminiscing." He took a last glance at the Great Fox, noting the tips of the wings starting to fall off. It had not done well in storage. _Should ask Slippy for help on that too._

The group meandered through the crowds and took one of the trams toward the main street of the city that stretched for miles in either direction.

"Where did they say to meet them?" Slippy asked when they stepped off.

"The Galactic Nova Restaurant," Lucy. "You know it?"

"I do," Krystal said. "It should be down the street here."

As they exited the tram station, a sudden rumble started under their feet, stopping all traffic in the area. Fox immediately held onto Krystal as the ground shook worse. His first thought was an earthquake. However, the shaking wasn't constant. It stopped for a few seconds at a time before starting up again.

"Earthquake?" Amanda asked, not noticing the distinction.

Fox, Slippy, and Peppy exchanged glances. They knew the sound of strafe runs far too well and ground targets being destroyed. Sure enough, moments later, a squadron of ships zoomed overhead, firing lasers into buildings beyond Fox's view. Screams and smoke followed another round of mini-quakes.

Helping Krystal stand, Fox ran to the front of the group with her and cut through an alley. "Come on. We have to find cover. This way."

* * *

Marcus sat in the back of the bus with Vivian and Tad beside him. He partly paid attention to their talks of where they should take their parents tonight as he admired the skyline across the water. The only spot to view the horizon in this city was on the Cornerian River Bridge and whether the sun set, rose, or was high in the sky, that horizon called to him, beckoning him with its gleaming waters, like a reflection of the wide universe, millions of sparkling stars and millions of adventures waiting to be had.

He was so caught up in his daydream, he almost didn't hear someone shout, "What's that?"

Dimly, he lifted his head to the other side with Vivian and Tad as ships flew overhead in a v-attack formation. As they left the bridge and entered the city, many speculated if it was some military training exercise.

However, Marcus noted the ships circling back around to make another run over the city, still in perfect formation. Something felt off. Another group of planes ripped through the skies, heightening his nerves.

Then the bus jerked to the left, throwing him into his friends and all three out of their seat. The vehicle lurched forward, took another sharp turn to the right, then crashed into something large, flinging all its passengers forward.

Everyone scrambled to their feet, kicking the doors open and pouring off the bus. Marcus, a little dizzy, stood and helped his friends up. "You two okay?"

"I will be when my noggin stops ringing," Tad said, rubbing his forehead. "What happened there?"

Vivian pointed forward and outside, the crumbled remains of a building blocking the road. Behind them, Marcus saw more destruction and collapsed rubble, cementing his fear of the planes earlier. The driver was on the radio, trying to raise any assistance as the other academy students milled around, taking in the near misses.

Above them, he heard the familiar sound of a plane engine. A warning in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't the Cornerian military.

"We have to get off the bus," he said.

Vivian gave him a strange look. "What?"

"Off the bus, now!" He pushed them forward, not caring if he was rude. He scooted them off the bus and grabbed the bus driver as well. "Hurry!"

Once off the bus, they saw the ships heading straight for them. Unlike their Arwings, these black ships opened up into purple-tipped tentacles, like some monstrous starfish. In the center of its mass, a bright spot glowed and fired a series of rings that grew larger the closer they got to the ground.

"Run!" Marcus shouted to his classmates. He, Tad, and Vivian beat it to an office building. Several quick students caught onto the danger and fled for safety too. The rest were caught in the rings' blast.

When the rings touched the bus, it exploded, throwing the driver and others high and away in the explosion. More explosions followed, as other cars added to the cacophony and mayhem.

Vivian yelped, slapping her hand over his mouth, and Tad fell backwards. Marcus collapsed to his knees, unable to believe what he had just seen. Over a dozen people, just, gone. Like that. No warning or anything.

The ship closed its tentacles and left in search of more victims. A few minutes passed, all of them trying to process what happened. Once he could move and was sure the coast was clear, Marcus dashed out to the flaming wreck of the bus.

Nearby, charred bodies were strewn around and other images of death he wished he hadn't seen. His stomach churned and he leaned over, unable to catch his breath and gagging.

Vivian joined him, rubbing his back and scanning the area. Everybody was gone. Beyond their own little area of damage, the whole street was torn to shreds. Building after building had fallen and more bodies were further ahead, lost to the sudden attack, most trapped under rubble. A gruesome sight that neither of them could stand.

Tad shifted through the debris, clamping his hand over his nose and searching for any signs of life. He found none and took off his hat, holding it to his chest and granting those departed a solemn moment.

"Why?" Vivian finally asked. "Who's doing this?"

That allowed Marcus to focus and concentrate on something besides the death around them and the sickened feeling in the pit of his stomach. Who attacked them? Who declared war on them so abruptly? "We won't get any answers here," he said, wiping his mouth. "And it doesn't matter. This is a battle. Which means the Cornerian Army will need all the help it can get."

"So what's the plan?" Tad asked.

"Regroup. 'When you're scattered and the plan has gone up in smoke— and it will go up in smoke— regroup, re-evaluate, retaliate," he said, paraphrasing one of their drill instructors. "We just need to make it back across the bridge and to the academy. It's not too far. An hour's walk maybe. Faster if we run."

Neither Tad or Vivian had better options so they joined him, running across the street and back to the bridge. Once there, they flattened their backs against a drugstore and peered out onto the bridge. And Marcus' heart immediately sank.

The bridge itself was holding together barely. Chunks had been blown out of it here and there. And more of those star-fish ships patrolled the bridge, keeping watch for anybody making a break for it. Across the bridge, columns of smoke rose from the Academy and the surrounding area.

"Great," Marcus said, cursing those ships.

"Well," Vivian pulled back, "what now?"

 **A/N:** Hm, this was quite interesting to write.

 **Pen:** Yeah, yeah. Get on with it. We appreciate them reading, you'd like to know what they think, blah, blah, blah. If this is going to be another long one, I'm going to need more tea.

 **Sword:** And coffee! Whoo!

Well, as he said, thank you all. We'll see you in the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2: An Old Presence

**A/N:** Hey, I think we're getting a bit more into the groove of things now.

 **Pen:** I wish you wouldn't. Let's just keep this short.

 **Sword:** And long on fun!

Okay, okay. First things first. Thank you to chidoriprime, Troy Groomes, bryan mccloud, and the anonymous readers for their reviews on the first chapter. Marcus, Fox, Krystal, and all these others belong to Nintendo. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you and enjoy.

 **Chapter 2- An Old Presence**

By the time Marcus, Tad, and Vivian reached the inner areas of the city, the sun was well below the crumbling building. They scurried from cover to cover, mindful of the ships passing by on patrols.

"I don't get it," Marcus said. "The military should be here by now."

"Unless they were all taken out," Vivian said

Tad frowned and a shiver raced down Marcus' spine. They had all been thinking it, but none of them daring to say it aloud. The entire Cornerian military, gone. Just like that. If this new enemy had defeated a superior military force, then what hope did they have now?

"They can't all have been wiped out," Marcus said. "Corneria has other bases on the planet."

"That's right," Tad said. "Bet they already got the call and are on their way now." His tone wavered, unsure of his words.

"Either way, we need to keep moving," Marcus said. "Find someplace to lay low, contact help. Maybe even get our hands on a ship, if possible."

"What about our parents?" Lucy asked. "We can't leave them here."

"Knowing them, they're safe and sound," he said. "Don't worry about them. They can handle themselves, after all. Remember who they are?" She sighed and nodded. "Look, we can try to find them, but as part of the Academy, we owe it to Corneria and its citizens to find help. That should be our first priority and our parents would agree." They didn't argue with him there. "Now, anyone know if there are any mechanic shops around here? Preferably that deal in ships?" He looked to Tad.

"None that I know of," he said.

"How close are we to the space port then?"

"You can't seriously be thinking of stealing a civilian ship."

"Commandeering," he said, stressing his excuse, "on authority of Corneria to contact any military forces left. Maybe we can even use it to sneak past those ships on the bridge and reach the Academy."

"Why do I feel like this is going to end in a fiery crash?" Vivian said. "Even before we find a ship?"

"Well, I'm all ears for a better idea."

"Let's find our parents," Tad said, bring the idea around again. "Our dads might have brought their Arwings. They could have this cleaned up fast."

"They didn't," he said. "Those have been disrepair for a while now." That was the last thing he wanted anyway.

"They might be able to tell us more about the enemy forces."

Marcus cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

He pointed at one of the starfish ships flying by. "Pretty sure that's an Anglar ship. My dad told me about them. Came from Venom with a whole mess of other ships."

"You sure about that?" He peered at the ship. It did seem aquatic in design, but something was definitely off about it. An unnatural presence to it.

"Can't right say for sure. The Academy books describe them a little different. But it's related to the Anglars somehow. Maybe our dads can fill us in."

"If it's in the Academy books, then I'm sure the military knows about them. Besides, Star Fox is retired. Two pilots can't take on a whole fleet."

"That's not the way I hear the old stories," Vivian said.

"We don't need their help," he shot back, a little too harshly, startling her. He realized his mistake and cleared his throat. "What I mean is, we'll need whatever's left of Corneria's fleet to combat these guys. It's all on us and only we can do this, got it?"

Neither seemed happy about his plan, but they fell in behind him and hurried down the street.

* * *

Fox gathered Krystal and everyone else into a hotel lobby, ushering them in. Dozens of citizens had had the same idea and raced for the doors. Fox and Slippy held them open as the people raced for the lobby, fleeing the alien menace.

Above the herd of people, a series of large purple energy rings slammed into the ground, catching the front-end of the crowd. Several evaporated in an instant and the rest of the crowd scattered, running scared. Fox tried to coax them inside, but none listened, only concerned with the immediate danger in the sky.

By the time the alien ship was gone, the street was deathly quiet again. Fox and Slippy closed the doors and stared out at the carnage. A large hole carved deep into the street and looking closer, Fox realized not all of the victims had fully disintegrated in the blast. Absent-mindedly, he locked the doors, part of him wondering what good that would do, but the other part comforted by some small measure of security.

He turned around. "Everyone okay?" he asked and Krystal embraced him, her heart beating as fast as his against his chest. Amanda checked her husband and Lucy sat with her father, helping him catch his breath.

"What were those things?" Lucy asked.

Fox shook his head, a small fear prickling his neck. "I didn't get a good look at them, but they looked a lot like," he eyed Slippy, who confirmed his assessment with a look.

"Anglars," Krystal said aloud, reading both their minds. "But we destroyed them, didn't we?"

"I'm not sure these are the same Anglars," Slippy said. "I remember those ships. My father and I studied them up close after the Anglar War ended and these seem more," he tapped his chin, searching for the right words to describe it, "more mechanical in design."

Fox could already hear Falco's snark in his head. "Of course they're mechanical. They're ships, Einstein!"

"More like Andross," Slippy said.

Fox agreed with the assessment. There had been some vague threat that felt like the cold hand of Andross guided those ships. A spark flitted in Peppy's eyes as well. The old codger had noticed it too, his senses sharp as ever, even if the rest of his body wasn't. The others didn't know, but the original Star Fox members were sure. They had confronted Andross enough times to recognize his menace in all of this.

"But Andross is dead," Amanda pointed out. "You told us yourselves that he died years ago."

"Didn't stop him from coming back when we least expected it. But it isn't quite like Andross," Fox said slowly. "It feels like him, yet it doesn't at the same time." He moved away from the door. "Standing around speculating won't solve anything though. We need to find out more."

"What do you suggest?" Slippy asked.

"We head to the roof," he said. "Get our bearings, maybe find out who or what is attacking us. Then go from there. I don't suppose anyone brought a blaster with them?"

They shook their heads. "We have ours back on the Great Fox," Peppy said. Same as Fox and Krystal. No one had thought it necessary to bring one to the city.

"Okay, we'll just have to scrounge up whatever weapons we can. Let's go."

As they traipsed up the stairs, Lucy guiding her father's hover chair, Fox fell in line beside Krystal. Her mouth was twisted into a worried frown and her sad eyes were all too easy to read. The same realization had dawned on him as well, gripping his heart tight. "Hey," he said, wrapping an arm around her and acting more confident than he felt, "Marcus will be fine. He's got a good head on him thanks to you."

"It's the cavalier attitude he inherited from you I'm worried about," she said.

"Says the woman who went to a planet to fight off an army herself." She gave an amused snort. Still she paid attention to her feet and he could feel her anxiety grow. "He's also got Tad and Vivian with him," he said, nodding at the rest of their friends ahead. "Between the three of them, I'm sure they're safe."

"I know," she said. "That doesn't mean I'm not worried for all of them."

"Me too." He kissed her forehead and she leaned into him. "Me too."

* * *

The sun was touching the horizon when they entered the center of the city. In the process, all Marcus and his friends had found was more devastation everywhere they looked. What stuck out to him the most was the general quiet, dead streets.

Not that the roads were lined with bodies. The lack of any life in general. The occasional corpse reared its ugly head here and there and they had spotted a few survivors fleeing in all directions for a brief second that they questioned if they imagined it. No, the entire city was abandoned, as if overnight everyone had evacuated and left behind a ghost town.

The eerie dark windows and whatever lurked behind them watched their every move. And there was a constant sensation that any moment, something would leap out of the shadows to snatch them.

"I don't like this," Tad said, pulling on his hat. "Where is everyone?"

"We need to get off the streets," Vivian said. Marcus agreed and scanned the area. Ahead, there was the central park, with all its shaded trees and wooded area. But it would leave them out in the open.

"How about there?" Vivian pointed out a seedy bar on the other side of the street. With smashed windows, vomit stains covering the walls and sidewalk on its sides, and graffiti layered over top of one another, Marcus wondered how much of the bar's damage was due to the Anglars.

Down the street, a young couple shrieked, sprinting from the park. Marcus moved to them, then stopped dead in his tracks. Behind the couple, one of the starfish ships rose into the fading twilight, chasing after them. Quick as a flash, it caught up to the couple and fired one of its rings directly at them.

"No!" Marcus yelled.

However, instead of a ground-shattering explosion, the ring plopped harmlessly on the ground, surrounding the pair. Immediately, a dome rose out of the ring, covering and trapping its prey, then lifted off the ground, completing its formation into a purple bubble. The bubble returned to the starfish ship, stealing the two figures and taking them away.

"What on Corneria was that?" Marcus asked as the ship disappeared from view. He didn't remember _that_ from his father's stories.

"Well, now we know why we can't find anyone," Vivian said.

"That sure as shine ain't Anglar tech," Tad said. "This is weird."

Marcus' ears pricked, picking up the sounds of another engine in the distance. A second starfish ship rose from the park's trees and headed in their direction.

"Uh, guys? We need to move right now."

They saw it and all of them agreed the bar was better than nothing. They booked it to the entrance and Marcus grabbed the handle. It was locked! "Are you kidding me?" The rest of the entire bar was beat to a pulp, but the door was locked? Why sort of insane, neurotic owner would even care to lock up this place?

"It's coming!" Vivian said, throwing her shoulder against the door.

"Tad!" he said. "Check the windows!"

The toad ran over to the broken glass, peering through and clearing some of the shards out of the way. Suddenly, he snatched back his hand and hissed, a thin trail of red coating his palm. "No good! There's bars on the windows!"

"Unbelievable." They were completely exposed out here. They could try the alley, but the ship would definitely see them of it flew close to the bar. The other buildings on their side of the street weren't any better.

There was an awning covering a bank lobby across the street, but they would have to move now and to beat the ship there. Or they could try their luck with another building along their sidewalk that wasn't completely destroyed.

After a second of debating, and the ship's engine looming closer, Marcus waved Tad over. "On three, go for that awning," he said, pointing at the lobby. "One, three!"

However, the door of the bar flew open and a pair of hands reached out, grabbing the three youths and throwing them inside. Marcus crashed into a table and fell through a chair, snapping its legs. As soon as he sat up, the door slammed shut.

Marcus and Vivian were on their feet first. Tad stood up, a little wobbly, and groped for a stool. Flickering neon lights were the only source of light in the place. Marcus checked his friends, making sure they were fine, before turning to the figure at the door.

The person shoved a pool table back into place against the door, then straightened to his full height. He was tall, with large arms that folded across his chest. He tilted his head curiously, examining the three of them, and carried himself in a cocksure manner, unafraid of the Academy students.

"Well, well, well," he said, shaking his head. "Different time, different planet, and in the middle of it all, I still run into a McCloud."

"Who are you?" Marcus asked.

"That's a nasty cut," he said, ignoring the question and pointing at Tad. The cut looked worse under the neon signs, blood flowing from it freely, and Tad did his best to wrap the wound up in some beer-soaked towel.

"Man, don't they teach field dressing at the Academy anymore?" the stranger said, stepping around the bar. He pulled out a bottle of amber liquid from under the bar, popped off the cap, and handed it to Tad. "Take a swig. This is going to hurt."

Tad carefully took the bottle, swallowed a small sip under the watchful eye of the stranger, and hacked. "Ugh, that's strong."

"That's the point," he said, taking the bottle back and pouring the alcohol on Tad's cut. The toad hissed and jumped up, but the stranger held his hand to the bar, quickly tying off the cut with a clean towel. "Best we can do for now. Drink some more if you want." He handed him the rest of the bottle.

"You still haven't answered my question," Marcus said now that Tad was taken care of. He marched up to the bar and asked, "Who are you?"

The stranger leaned against the wall, his face fully illuminated by the flickering neon. His fading blue plumage betrayed his older age. He wiped his beak and shook his head. "Drop the front, Foxy, Jr. It won't work on me." Marcus growled at the nickname. How did this guy know who he was? And how was he able to push his buttons from the start? "Besides, you don't want to antagonize your only help here."

"Help?" Vivian joined Marcus. "Why would we need your help?"

"Because if you three are who I know you are, then I have a hunch what you plan to do." He turned to each of them, studying their faces for a moment, then introduced himself. "Name's Falco Lombardi. And you're going to need my help if you mean to fight these guys."

 **A/N:** That was fun.

 **Pen:** Watching you sprint toward that reveal was not fun at all.

 **Sword:** Shut up! I wanted to do it.

 **Pen:** You keep quiet!

 **Sword:** Make me!

Knock it off, both of you. Thank you all for reading and please let us know what you think so far. As always, we love hearing from you.


	3. Chapter 3: The Cocky Pilot

**A/N:** Where's Sword?

 **Pen:** You always ask that. Am I her keeper?

You are her boyfriend.

 **Pen:** …She took off in her Arwing to find Corneria.

But…her Arwing is just a cardboard box with wrapping paper rolls for wings. How could she-

 **Pen:** I know.

Well, okay. As long as she's not setting anything on fire. Again. Hello everyone and welcome back. Thank you to chidoriprime, Troy Groomes, and Marcus for their reviews on the last chapter. As always, Marcus, Fox, Krystal, and all these others belong to Nintendo. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you and enjoy.

 **Chapter 3- The Cocky Pilot**

Marcus gaped at the tall man as an Anglar ship passed overhead. Even being raised by a hero of the famed Star Fox, he still stopped in awe at the legend before him. " _The_ Falco Lombardi?" Tad asked, echoing Marcus' inner sentiments. "Former Star Fox member and decorated war hero?"

"I don't know about hero," he said, but a small smile graced his lips at the recognition. "The money was good though."

Falco Lombardi. The ace pilot his father had flown with back in the day? The same person his father called "one of the best Arwing pilots to ever live"? Marcus recalled a few pictures his father had shown him of his best friend and had trouble seeing that same image in the person before him. The old bird behind the bar seemed like a washed-up pilot, down on his luck and rotating between seedy places, claiming any job where the money was good. Maybe back in the day he was something, but now, he was older and worse for the wear, with tired eyes and rank clothes. In all, a shell of his former glory.

Marcus wasn't even sure it was the same person until Falco fixed him with a stare. "Got something to say, Foxy Junior?" Marcus bristled again at the name, but he also saw a spark in those eyes. A sharp, competitive light that was always up for action and confirmed the resemblance to those old pictures. This Falco was the real deal.

"Stop calling me that," Marcus said. Even if this was Falco, he still kept up his guard. "How do you know who we are?"

"It's not too hard," he said, pointing a long finger at Marcus first. The vulpine knew what was coming next, the dreaded comparison, and he was sorry he asked. "You're the spitting image of your father, minus your mother's hue." Marcus snorted and bared his teeth. Always the exact same, no matter who said it. "Even got his attitude and you're an Academy boy. A regular walking, talking mini-McCloud."

Before Marcus could lash out, Falco turned to Tad. "Hangs out with a McCloud. Calloused and scorched hands, most likely from tinkering with engines." Tad examined his palms, tracing a few of the scars and burns over the years. "Got to be Slippy's."

"Which leaves you," he said to Vivian. "Around their age, vaguely familiar to that old fart from our team, wagering you got a bit of a brain on you. Got that nose in a textbook look about you. You're Lucy's kid. That about cover it?"

"That was," Vivian opened and closed his mouth, "amazing."

"Yeah, how did you do that?" Tad asked.

"Observational skills," Falco said, basking in their awe for a few moments. Then he pulled out a communicator, set it on the bar, and tapped a few buttons. Immediately, a picture of the students' first day at the Academy popped up, where they were hugging and kissing their parents farewell as they began their freshman year.

"Or maybe your parents shoot me the occasional message with pictures attached like a grandparent with their kids." He swiped through some of the additional pictures, reading the accompanying text out loud in a mocking tone. " 'Our babies are all grown up', 'We're so proud of them', 'Following in his dad's footsteps', yadda yadda yadda, non-stop. I probably have enough to make my own scrapbook. 'Gullible Progenies' has a nice ring to it."

The three burned in embarrassment over their parents' admiration and praise. Marcus was especially aware of how bad his mom and Tad's father had been when they were toddlers, always showing them off to neighbors and bragging about them.

"So what is it you want?' Vivian asked.

Falco mercifully put the communicator away and clucked his tongue. "Well, let's see. A billion credits wouldn't be a bad start. A new Arwing, my own little airfield, and maybe Kat—uh, a frozen Katina concoction. But I'll have to settle with helping you three against the Anglars."

"Why would we need your help?" Marcus asked.

"You're planning to fight these things, right?" he asked. "Well, you're going to need all the pilots you can get. I'm a pilot."

 _Great. Just what we need_ , he thought. However, Tad and Vivian were more enthusiastic about the idea.

"Falco Lombardi. Man, I've heard all sorts of stories," Tad said, prepared to rattle off each and every one.

"Now we have a shot," Vivian said.

"Hey, are you two forgetting something?" Marcus asked. "One pilot can't kill a fleet. We still need to get to the spaceport, get a ship, and warn the rest of the military."

Tad groaned and Falco cleared his throat. "He's right. As much as I hate to admit it, there are too many of these things to go at it alone. Luckily, I have an Arwing waiting at the spaceport. We can take it to warn the Cornerian military and get some help."

"Do you know a way there?"

Falco slipped a blaster out of the holster on his hip, checked its ammo, and nodded. "Yeah, but we need to move quick. Those ships have been circling this area on five minute patrols." On cue, another enemy zipped by outside, its engines booming in the absolute still dusk. "Let's move." He ran for a backdoor, shoved a vending machine out of the way, and beckoned them on.

Immediately, Tad and Vivian followed. "Wait, guys, I—" but Marcus' protests fell on deaf ears. They were already out the door and all he could do was chase after them.

The group raced through the alley, mindful of the patrols in the sky, and made several sharp turns until they reached an unfamiliar, darkened street. Peering into the night, Marcus noted many tourist trap shops and hotels crowding out the slums shoved between them.

Falco walked ahead of the students, his pistol held high, scanning the streets. "Don't suppose any of you are armed?" he asked. They shook their heads. "Can we expect any help from the Academy or is that gone too?"

"We don't know," Vivian said. "We were on our way to the city to visit our parents when the attack happened."

"Oh, so Foxy and all are in the city." He cast sly look at Marcus. "Explains why Junior here is wound tighter than a drill instructor's clock."

"Stop calling me that," he hissed and Falco put a finger to his lips. Marcus lowered his voice. "We never got the chance to see them. We don't even know if they're here."

"Knowing them," Falco said, eyeing a particularly long strip mall with gaudy clothes modeled by mannequins in the windows, "they're here somewhere."

"And they're safe," Marcus said, already catching the worry on Vivian's and Tad's faces and masking his own. "They can take care of themselves." His nerves made it difficult to talk and he forced out the rest. "O-Our first duty is to the people of Corneria who can't defend themselves. We have to help them."

"Hm, yes, duty," Falco nodded. By his tone, he seemed to see straight through Marcus, piercing through the façade to his true intentions. But if that was the case, he didn't say anything in front of Vivian and Tad. Rather, he gestured to the side of the street as an Anglar patrol passed by. "We better hurry then. Can't leave the people waiting."

* * *

The hotel didn't offer much in the way of weapons. Fox scrounged up a taser gun, which he gave to Peppy "as a precaution" and Krystal dug up a sturdy, metal baton in the security office. No actual guns of any kind. By the end, they had equipped themselves with whatever they could find, Fox and Slippy resorting to breaking off a couple of bedposts as impromptu bats. Lucy had found a medkit and Amanda a pair of binoculars.

It was slow going to the top and once they were on the roof, night had already settled in the city. "Well, what now?" Amanda asked.

Fox peered off in the distance, toward the city bridge that led to the Academy. To his surprise, several ships circled the area, scanning the water and Academy with lights on their underbellies. Not searching for anything in particular, but protecting the bridge, guarding it against outside attack. What could be across the bridge worth protecting besides the Academy? And why would this enemy care?

"It looks like they're gathering over there," Fox said.

"You don't think," Lucy started slowly, her throat squeezing her voice, "the kids were—"

"No, no," he said. "They were on their way to meet us, remember?"

"Right," she said, shaking her head. "Right, of course."

"But whatever's going on over there is important. Besides, we may run into Vivian, Tad, and Marcus on the way." Still, there were several things that something seemed off about this invasion that crawled under Fox's skin and gnawed at his mind, including the Anglar resurgence. One such item in particular was abundantly clear.

Krystal sensed his misgivings and asked, "What's wrong?"

Peppy spoke up in a wheezing rasp. "The main ship," he said. "Can't have an invasion like this alone."

Fox smiled. The old-timer still had his wits even in this mess. "He's got it. These ships are too small to fly out this far from another planet. And if they had come from Corneria, the military would have detected them. Meaning there's got to be a mothership of some kind to transport them. Or flagships."

"Wouldn't we have seen them?" Amanda asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. We've yet to see anything larger than," he trailed off, staring at the night sky. Was it his imagination or did he notice a ripple in the inky darkness? A shape moving in front of the stars? "Amanda, do you still have those binoculars you found?" She handed them over and he adjusted the lenses, zooming in to where he had noticed the sudden shift in the sky. Long moments passed, waiting, waiting, waiting for nothing to appear.

He was sure something had been there. Could it have been a trick of the mind? While he pieced together an answer, Krystal interrupted him. "Look! The kids!"

Fox turned his attention to the streets and sure enough, there were all three of their children. A violet vulpine, an orange toad in a cowboy hat, and a tall, gray hare. No mistaking them there. Then he saw a fourth figure ahead of them, leading the pack. "Is that?" he muttered to himself. Blue plumage and a cocky air that Fox smelled all the way up on the rooftop. "Falco, you timely dog, you." Their former teammate had found their kids. They were in safe hands.

Before he could call down to them, a loud aircraft rumbled in the night. As if from thin air, a large flagship materialized from the night sky where Fox had seen the ripple. It was long, sleek, and shining lights on them. His first and only thought was a cloaking device installed on the flagship before Anglar ships launched from its nose and circled around toward the hotel.

* * *

Marcus and his friends heard the flagship move to a dilapidated hotel, but were unaware what it was until it blocked out the stars in the sky. Falco shoved them all into the nearest cover behind some garbage cans and they watched the battle.

The Anglar ships circled and fired more of those slow moving capture rings at the rooftop of the building. Whoever was up there was important, as a whole squad of ships were bearing down on them.

Then Marcus recognized one of the figures scampering on the roof and caught by one of the Anglar rings. "Tad? Isn't that your dad?"

"What?" he yelped and squinted. "Don't lie to me!"

"No, he's right," Vivian said. She had better eyes than either of them, but the toad kicking and fighting against the purple orb he was encased in was plain as day. "It's Slippy."

"Oh, great," Falco muttered as the bubble rose off the ground.

Tad gaped, mumbling to himself, unable to believe what he was seeing. "No, it can't be him. You're wrong. You're all wrong."

Falco grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place. "Hey, look at me. Look at me." He pulled Tad's face around. "Stay with us. We're going to get him back, okay?" Tad seemed to zone out, not really paying attention.

Quickly, their family was captured and sucked into the Anglar ships. Lucy's cheeks flushed pale as her own mother disappeared into a ship and her body tensed up. Falco tried to divide his attention between her and Tad, easing them down, but it was more than he could manage alone.

It didn't help that one of the last bubbles stopped Marcus' heart. "Mom?" He hopped to his feet and rushed the hotel door. Falco and Vivian immediately tackled him to the ground, rolling around in the middle of the street.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "Let me go! I have to help her!"

"Shut up!" Falco hissed, clamping his hand over Marcus' mouth. "Or they'll hear us!" Marcus didn't care if the entire Anglar Armada heard him. He needed to help his parents. He dug his claws into Falco's arm, elbowed his ribs, and twisted this way and that, trying to worm away from both of them. Lucy lost her grip, yet Falco heard on despite all the pain until he flipped Marcus over, pinning him down and prying his claws from his arm. "Just because I'm older doesn't mean that doesn't hurt," he said as small drops of blood dabbed the punctures. "And just because you're Fox's brat doesn't mean I won't beat some sense into you, Anglars or no Anglars." His scowl indicated that he may do that anyway.

"They have our parents," Marcus said, struggling against the weight. Falco was stronger than he looked. Faster too, as any movement he made was stifled right away.

"Not all of them," Falco said, jerking his head up, but never taking his eyes off Marcus.

Marcus craned his neck backwards, catching a flash of orange leaping from the hotel rooftop to another nearby roof, chasing after the ships with their captured parents. Behind it, the Anglar ships continued to fire and chase after the figure. "Dad?"

"Bingo," Falco said. "He's going after the others."

"He'll need our help," Marcus said. "We got to go."

"Uh, guys?" Tad called out from behind the garbage cans. "We might have a bit of an eensy problem."

All eyes turned to the Anglar ship that had broken off from the pack and circled down to the street, its focus directly on them. It opened its tentacles and the dangerous appendages began to glow.

Falco swore under his breath. "Perfect," he said. "Run."

 **A/N:** Hey, go grab Sword. We need her here. *sees her fly overhead in her cardboard box on fire* I thought you said—

 **Pen:** I said she was in her Arwing off to find Corneria. I didn't say if it was working or not.

 **Sword:** I'm coming for ya, Andross!

I'll get the fire extinguisher and first aid kit. In the meantime, thank you everyone for reading. Please let us know what you think so far. We always love hearing from you all.


	4. Chapter 4: Straight Shootin'

**A/N:** Hello once again everyone.

 **Sword:** How you all doing?

 **Pen:** *squirts her with a fire extinguisher* Hold still. You still have some embers.

I'm on the phone with the hospital for third-degree burns. In the meantime, we want to say a quick thank you to Troy Groomes and Marcus for their reviews on the last chapter. As always, Marcus, Fox, Krystal, and all these others belong to Nintendo. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you and enjoy.

 **Chapter 4- Straight Shootin'**

Marcus rolled out of the street with Falco in time to miss the quick purple ring. As soon as it touched the asphalt, the ground exploded and rained gray chunks and earth on them. The ship sped by, flying out to circle around for another pass.

"I said, 'Run'!" Falco bellowed, jerking Marcus to his feet by the scruff of his shirt. "Get going! All of you!"

Marcus didn't need to be told twice. He and his friends dashed down the street, avoiding the next shot from the Anglar ship. Falco brought up the rear, firing his blaster intermittently behind them. A well-aimed blaster bolt caught the tip of a tentacle on the ship's next pass. The tentacle short-circuited, fizzling black smoke and small flames.

The damage didn't slow the ship. It came hard at them, firing a set of rings. Falco directed them to an alley and they scampered in between the safety of the buildings. Unfortunately, the explosion was larger than any of them judged. Before Falco could fully step off the street, the shockwave of the blasts kicked him forward. He crashed into a window in the alley, which shattered into pieces, then crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Marcus, Vivian, and Tad gathered around him as the ship flew off. Carefully, they rolled him over and gasped. His gun-arm was covered in glass shards, some embedded deep in his wing. Cuts and lacerations scarred his face.

Tad lifted the damaged arm, receiving a painful grunt from Falco. "Feels like its broken." Marcus wasn't surprised. With how fast and how hard he hit the window, Falco's entire arm could have been fractured in several places.

"Gee, you think?" Falco asked. He winced, moving his arm, and Marcus noted bruising on the bits of chest poking out of tears in Falco's jacket. "We have to get moving. That thing's coming back."

Together, Marcus and Vivian each threw one of Falco's arms over their shoulder and carried him down the alley, with Tad scouting ahead. The Anglar ship passed behind them, scanning for its prey.

"Maybe they lost us?" Vivian said hopefully.

"Don't bet on it," Falco said.

As if on cue, Tad called ahead from the other end of the alley, "I see it coming down the street. Hurry!"

"We won't outrun it," Marcus said. "There's got to be a way to take it down."

"Get me in a good position and I can try to shoot it down," Falco said, squeezing the handle of his blaster. "Those kind of ships got a weak spot. Right in the middle when the rings come out. It's only for a second, but I've done it before."

"You have?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah," he said, then added quietly, "once."

Vivian shook her head. "You can't even raise your arm."

The Anglar ship jetted by, firing more of the rings into the street. The aftershock shook the ground, knocking them flat on their backsides. Falco hissed and grabbed his arm. "Can any of you shoot then? You're all Academy brats. One of you must know how to." He glanced at Tad. "How about you, Tex? Or is that hat just for show?"

"In the air, sure," he said. "But on the ground—"

"For show. Got it." He turned to Marcus, waiting for his answer.

"I'm okay," he said. "But to be honest, the best one is her." He pointed to Vivian, whose eyes ballooned in her skull.

"That a fact?" Falco mused, staunching a few of his wounds with his jacket. "Lucy had herself a little gunslinger?"

"Her mom says she's been shooting for years since she could walk. Third-highest sharpshooter at the Academy War Games," he said.

"Not hitting targets that are firing back," she said, clarifying his statement.

"Best I've ever seen."

"Obviously not. Third-highest. There were two better."

"Well, they're not here. You are." Falco slapped the pistol in her open hands and she stared at it. "Think you hit it from here, third-highest?"

"I-I can try," she said.

"Well, either you do or you don't," he said, standing with Marcus' assistance. "If you don't, we're all going to be space dust."

 _Excellent vote of confidence_ , Marcus thought sarcastically. The worry and fear were evident on her face and she kept fumbling the blaster, her fingers trembling and touching the trigger gingerly. "Hey, Viv," he said, "you can do this. Just like you do at the Academy."

"Yeah," Tad said. "Relax your mind like you taught me. Think of something calming."

"Right. Relax your mind, steady your hand, breathe, and shoot," she said to herself, repeating the mantra she had learned at a young age and passed on to Marcus and Tad.

He had no idea what Vivian always used to ease the tension in her body and give her that steady aim, but Marcus saw the fear slowly leaving her arms and she strode forward to the opening of the alley. Her hand became as steady and stable as the ship's path to them. The ship's center powered with a high whine, gathering energy into its mass, then belched forth a powerful ring.

As the ring launched from the ship, the center no longer shone bright. For a fraction of a second, its wiring was exposed. Marcus started to call out to Vivian to fire, but the laser bolt had already struck the wiring by the time the word reached his throat.

The ship shuddered as a burst of fire rocked it. Then it righted, twisted, and fell into a sharp dive down, tearing off a roof or two on the way. The group backed away further into the alley as the ring made contact with the ground, leveling more roads and architecture.

When the dust settled, Vivian still stood calm and resolute, pistol pointed at where the ship had been. Marcus started to congratulate her when he noticed her knees locked into place. Every joint in her body was stiff and her torso swayed.

"Tad!" The toad leapt up and caught her as she fell over, keeping her at least on her feet. The blaster dropped to the ground and she panted, as if she had been frozen, removed from all that happened with the Anglar, and only recently been thrust back into the time flow, where the last few moments caught up to her and set her heart to racing.

"Textbook girl's got some showdown brass. Nice shooting, Calamity Jane," Falco said, digging his hand into Marcus' shoulder and leaning his weight into him. He hobbled over to the pair, plucked Tad's hat off his head, and set it on Vivian's. He shot Falco a dirty look, then returned to Vivian, helping her unhinge her joints. "Looks like we have a new cowgirl."

She sniffed and rubbed her arms, shivering despite the warm night. "If it's all the same," she said, returning the hat to Tad, "I'd rather not do _that_ again."

"No promises," Falco said. "Now, let's get going. That thing's friends will be along soon and I'd like to be far away from here."

 _We all would._ Once Vivian had come down from the gunslinger high, and Tad had talked her through slower, deeper breathing, Marcus threw Falco's arm over him and led the way out of the alley and to the spaceport.

* * *

Fox cursed himself and everything around him non-stop as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop like a burglar on the run. He had let his guard down for a moment and now everyone was gone. The ships ahead with Krystal, his team, and friends were fading from sight, almost winking out amongst the stars. And in the middle of it all, he had left Marcus and the other kids behind to fend for themselves. _No, not for themselves_ , he reasoned again. _Falco was with them. They'll be fine._ He had to keep telling himself that. _Falco's there. They'll be fine._

He didn't have a chance to appreciate the irony of trusting Falco of all people with responsibility, especially the safety of his child. The pair of Anglar ships occupied most of his attention. They were gaining fast on him, each blast threatening to knock him off his feet.

Ahead, the ships with the prisoners were still in view, holding steady across the bridge and at the Academy. Another leap and the ships were touching down into the Academy. At the hanger, if he remembered correctly. What was so important about the Academy though? Is that where the invaders had set-up their command center for this attack?

He ran a little too slow on the next rooftop considering all this and paid the consequence. One of the rings caught him, flinging him up and diagonally across to another rooftop. Or so he thought. Instead, he crashed onto a fire escape, rolled down a flight of stairs, and collapsed onto the steel grating one level below. His body ached all over and cried in protest against moving a single muscle.

His pursuers moved in for the kill. Fox broke a nearby window, hissing as his foot kicked the glass out. He crawled inside, cutting himself on jagged pieces, and hid as the ships passed overhead. He waited on the floor against the wall, his body all too happy to rest as searchlights waved to and fro, attempting to locate him.

A few rings fired here and there and the building he was in rumbled, losing pieces left and right. Outside, the neighboring department store collapsed in on itself. Thankfully, the room he was in stayed standing.

Eventually, the ships broke off from their hunt, assuming him dead, and returned to their patrol or the Academy. Fox didn't care which, as long as they were gone.

Sitting up, he assessed his damage. His ribs hurt something awful, probably a couple were broken, and it pained him to breathe. He only hoped some bones weren't digging into his lungs and thought positive. _Could just be a sore chest._ He picked a few beads of glass out of surface scratches on his legs and arms. Otherwise, he was still able to move about, albeit in slow, deliberate shuffles.

Taking stock of the apartment he had broken into, he figured there was nothing of any value. It was modest, small really, with a single bed and bath. And the homey furniture didn't really scream "armed to the teeth" or "prepared for disaster".

With a heavy sigh, he used a counter to help himself up and opened any drawers, searching for something useful anyway. A few hand towels, utensils, tape, flashlight, the normal essentials of any typical apartment. He grabbed the flashlight, spare batteries, and cut a relatively clean hand towel into strips using a knife. Then he taped the cloths around his limbs as best he could. By the end, he looked more like a kid who had gotten into their parents' kitchen supplies to play doctor with the brightly colored towel covering his wounds.

However, a doctor would have better medication than this place. All he found was some headache medicine. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for pain relief in his chest.

There was a radio, which he tried to no avail. All the stations were static, even the emergency broadcast station. _They've really taken out all of Corneria._ The realization hit with a cold shudder in his spine. If nothing else, in every war, Corneria had always stood strong as a last bastion against the onslaught of whoever threatened the galaxy. Now they were defeated in one fell swoop with no other attacks necessary. _Who are these guys?_

He couldn't ponder the question all day. His wife and friends still needed his help. Grabbing a few serrated knives from the utensil drawer as a precaution, he exited the apartment. Most of the stairwell was collapsed and he could already see out of holes into the street. Carefully, quietly, he took the stairs, minding the small fires and creaking framework threatening to collapse, determined to reach the Academy one way or another.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay. We would have had this out sooner, but we've been fighting a cold.

 **Sword:** It sucks! I can barely breathe!

 **Pen:** Maybe you'll pass out and grant us some relief.

While we recover for the next chapter, please let us know what you think so far. As always, we love hearing from all of you.


	5. Chapter 5: A Pirate's Traps

**A/N:** Finally, we recovered enough.

 **Sword:** Just in time to binge on leftover Christmas treats and eggnog! *noms on gingerbread cookies*

Ooo, can I have some?

 **Pen:** I don't think that's really the best when you just got over…*sighs* Fine. Looks like I have to handle this as usual. I'm sure the author would thank Troy Groomes and Marcus for their recent reviews if he wasn't busy guzzling eggnog. Marcus, Fox, Krystal, and all these others belong to Nintendo. The story, Sword, and myself belong to the author. Please do not use without permission. Go enjoy or whatever.

 **Chapter 5- A Pirate's Traps**

The spaceport was utterly abandoned by the time Marcus and his group reached it. The spaceport was _never_ abandoned. In a big city that acted as a central hub for the Federation? He couldn't recall one time where the place was less than jam-packed busy. At all hours of the day year-round, ships of all sizes constantly docked and departed the spaceport. Merchants off-loading goods to sell in order to buy new ones for other planets fought transport freighters unloading visitors to the city for spots to dock. Military ships patrolled the lanes, always on the eye out for the odd pirate or bounty mark, but mostly settling disputes between the hundreds of thousands of civilians flying in from all over Corneria and neighboring planets for work. Maneuvering a ship through the teeming hive of activity that was the spaceport was worse than driving a bus or cab through the cramped streets of the city, and you would have better luck flying an Arwing through an asteroid field. The spaceport was truly not for the faint of heart for anyone working there.

And yet, when Marcus approached this typically thriving center, throwing open the doors and helping Falco inside with Vivian and Tad, the place was empty. All the lights were off like the rest of the city, with back-up generators only powering the emergency exit signs. Kiosk desks and shop stands had fallen over, trampled to pieces by frantic crowds no doubt. Shops and other services lining the walls were ransacked, most of the goods inside stolen or littering the green carpet. Luggage lay scattered and forgotten in the baggage claim and personal belongings had been left in a hurry on tables and chairs.

Tad whistled low. "It's like everyone vanished all of a sudden," he said. "Been raptured or some such like."

"Yeah," Marcus said. "Think they were captured like," he swallowed the word 'parents' in his throat, not sure he could continue on if he thought about what had happened on the hotel. "Like all the rest?"

"I would bet on it," Falco said, his grim face in agreement and Marcus quelled a rising cold in his chest. "Let's get to my Arwing, quick."

"And how do you plan to fly it?" Marcus asked. "You got a bum arm."

Falco's eyes flashed cold in the darkness. "I don't care if I'm missing my arm. I can still fly circles around you and these Anglars one-handed, Junior."

The intensity which he said it backed Marcus away from any suggestion that someone else fly for him. He even overlooked the Junior quip for the moment. "Fine. What about the rest of us?"

"I saw another ship behind mine," he said, leading the students to the motionless escalator. He took one painful step after another. "Looked like a pirate ship to me. Or someone on the run. In the row over, there should be a couple of military ships. I'll walk you through— how did your dad used to put it? Oh, yeah— commandeering them."

Vivian snorted and Falco raised an eyebrow. "Something funny?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, and Marcus looked away from her as his ears burned. "But it's nothing."

At the top of the stairs and down a glass tube walkway that overlooked the thin, stringy clouds above the city, they entered the docking station. Rows of ships parked on circular platforms for their specific sizes stretched out in front, above, and beneath them. Each ship had its own clearing on the platform, separated by a small continuation of the jutting paths to the next ship, and the one after that, and so forth until the very end.

"There she is," Falco said, nodding to one of the rows below. In the dark, Marcus could just make out the faded blue paint and shape of the Arwing that resembled his father's. "Yours should be over there," he said, pointing up high two stories up and over for Vivian and Tad. He took out his communicator, set it to his Arwing's channel, and handed it to them. "Call me when you get there."

"Roger," Vivian said and the pair took off up a stairwell.

"Shall we?" Falco asked. Marcus grunted and hefted him down a level and along the platforms to his Arwing. Up close, the ship was as worse for wear as Falco. Paint peeled and chipped here and there, and the engines on the back had seen better days, as the exhausts alone tilted and clung to the Arwing by a wing and a prayer.

When he pulled his arm away from Marcus' neck and the fox stepped back to give him his space, Falco fell forward onto the cockpit window. Marcus jumped for him, but he shook him off. "I'm fine. Just banged my shin on this thing and fell. No big deal." However, his stance was all wrong. His heavy breathing and the glistened sweat on his brow worried Marcus. He leaned on the glass window as if on the verge of collapse.

"The pirate one should be over there," he said, pointing to the right. Not too far away, a blood red and black ship waited, similar to the Arwing, but larger and more powerful in design.

He didn't want to leave Falco alone though. It may have been his imagination, but in the starry night, the wounds on his arm and chest bled brighter and gaped wider. They really needed to take him to a hospital, although he knew Falco would point out the obvious. "What hospital, Junior?", followed by assurances that he was fine.

"I'll be there in a minute to open it for you," Falco said, opening up his cockpit and checking the inside. "Just want to be sure everything's here."

Open it? It was a plane, not a bank vault! He had been around planes all his life. He certainly knew how to open a cockpit. He shouldn't be mad over this slight. On some level, he knew how silly it was and in any other instance, he would let it slide. But throughout the stress of this whole ordeal, his blood had boiled especially hot and come close to bursting since meeting Falco, yet this was the most insulting yet. Did this condescending, insufferable geezer seriously not think that Marcus could handle something as simple as opening a plane?

Falco would open it for Marcus? He could barely stand, let alone fly the Arwing— Marcus would circle back to that argument later— and he had the gall to treat him like a toddler that had to have things done for him? Marcus stopped short of losing his temper, gripping it firmly by the chain to reel it in from the boundary line, and gritted out, "It's okay. I got it." Then he quickly left for the pirate plane, not looking back at all.

He should have been more resolute when Viv and Tad wanted Falco to join them. He should have stood his ground. They didn't need his help and they could certainly contact the Cornerian forces without him. Marcus knelt beside the pirate ship, feeling in the dark for the latch. Once he found it, he jimmied it. It was locked tight. He kicked his heel against the lock, heard a soft _chunk_ , and smiled. _Who needs who to open a cockpit?_

He unlatched the lock, satisfied in his ability to show up the old bird, that he almost didn't hear, "Don't move a muscle."

Behind him, Falco stood a few feet back, as if afraid of some danger zone around the ship. Then Marcus felt the same prickling fear that manifested into a cold steel touch. A hidden gun barrel poked out of a slot beneath the cockpit latch right in front of him, trained on his heart.

To the side, closer to the back, another panel had shifted open, revealing a red light that blinked steadily with a faint _beep…beep…beep._ Marcus' heart leapt into his throat as he assumed the worst. A bomb, or some sort of failsafe.

Falco confirmed his fears. "Don't take your hand off that latch if you don't want to be a pile of dust. Now, do exactly as I say, alright?"

"Yeah," he said, his fingers trembling on the lock. "Whatever you say."

"I'm guessing there's a gun in front of you?" Falco leaned to the side, trying to see around him. But in the dark, only Marcus could see the shiny black barrel of the blaster sticking out.

"Yeah."

"Okay, if you try to lift the hatch or take your hands off it, it will go off. And since it's impossible to dodge this close, we're going to have to disable it. And by 'we', I mean you."

"Can't you do it?"

"Maybe, but maybe not. Some pirate ships are set-up so if the ship's sensors pick up another body, it's defenses could just go off. Just be glad you picked one that is at least giving you a chance to disable it. Some can be…well, nasty."

"How do I do it then?"

"I'll guide you."

He looked at the beeping lights to his right. "What about those? That's a bomb, right?"

"Right, but that's a failsafe. If the gun doesn't kill you and you try to steal the ship, then the bomb will go off."

 _Great_. His fingers were slippery and sweaty, enough that he had to concentrate to keep his grip on the latch. The slightest twitch and it was over. His tongue grew fat in his mouth and his hands nearly flew to his choking throat.

"Settle down," Falco said. "Follow my words exactly and you'll make it to another day to kill yourself in some other stupid way. Now, in the gun's slot, reach past the gun on the right side."

Reach past it? As in get closer to it? He was already close enough, thank you very much. But Falco repeated his instructions and Marcus groaned, carefully, plunging one hand into the darkness, his fingers mindful of any components inside. The further inside he went, the more pressure he put on his other hand to steady himself. The latch was wet with his sweat and he tried not to think about it suddenly slipping off, not with the barrel jammed into his ribs.

"What am I looking for?" he hissed.

"You should feel a small metal object, like a pocket watch, behind the gun."

His fingers explored and advanced, tracing some curved item for a moment, until he realized it was the blaster's trigger, then fled to the safer side, touching and feeling the inner walls. Before his hand touched bottom, he grazed a small, round object of about the correct diameter. "I think I got it."

"Good. There should be two buttons on the side. Feel them?"

A bit to the right and there they were. "Yeah."

"Push and hold the top button."

"Okay." He pressed it, twisting his neck to look at the gun barrel. Several dreadful, gut-wrenching seconds passed before he heard an audible _click_.

"Good, it's disabled."

However, the blinking light suddenly whined to full life with a sudden _fweeee!_ , staying solidly lit. Marcus scrambled to his feet and almost took his hand off the latch before Falco said, "It's okay. It's just primed. It's not going off. It does that if the gun is disabled. Like I said, a failsafe."

"How do I disable it?"

"You're going to have to get a bit closer to it."

 _Get close to the bomb that could explode in my face._ If the old bird's directions hadn't already prevented the gun from discharging into his lungs, he would think Falco was trying to get him killed. With one hand firmly on the latch, he shuffled closer to the bomb and peered inside.

"Now, what do you see?" Falco asked.

"Uh, there's some sort of panel inside."

"Any wires?"

"Yeah," he said, just making out a couple of curling threads to the left. "Two of them."

"What colors?"

As far as he could tell, they were different shades of red in this light- one orange, one amber. He squinted, trying to decipher the coloring, with his nose pressed close to the panel. "Uh, yellow, and, I don't know, green, maybe?

" 'Maybe'?"

"Well, it's hard to see here!" he snapped. "Unless you got a flashlight over there-"

"Settle down, Junior. Here," he slipped a pair of small wire cutters out of his jacket and slid them over to Marcus. "Cut the yellow wire."

He picked up the tool. "You sure?"

"As sure as you are that they're yellow and green."

He eased the jaws of the wire cutters around the bomb, scooping the yellow wire between the sharp edges. Closing his eyes, he said a short prayer, snipped the wire, and prepared to be disintegrated.

Instead, the bomb powered down. The red light died, not him. He was still here, whole, alive. He dropped the wire cutters and relaxed against the ship.

Falco strolled over, scooping up the cutters, and opened the cockpit. "Looks like those are the only traps."

"Thanks," Marcus said, feeling an overwhelming urge of gratitude swell in his chest like that of Tad and Vivian.

"I told you to let me open it."

And just like that, it was gone. His father's stories had done little justice to Faclo's infuriating nature. Marcus climbed in, ignoring Falco's helping hand, and started a pre-flight check.

"We'll leave once your friends have their ships."

Marcus reached up to close the lid, but Falco held it open, resisting him. Once again, he was surprised by the old pilot's strength, even with a bum arm. What did that say about Marcus himself? _I need to hit the gym more often._

"Got it?" Falco asked.

If he wanted, he could have pushed Falco's arm off, but that would only escalate the situation, which would be plenty escalated once they were in the air and dodging the Anglars. And, he begrudgingly admitted, Falco did just save him. "Yeah," he said. Falco let go of the hatch and Marcus slammed it shut, stewing in the brief darkness before the red screens of his ship's status and the controls all around flickered to life, bathing the cockpit in scarlet.

* * *

Fox had braved enemy territory before, evading patrols and spotlights. But most of the time, there were gaps in the defenses, or a long way around if he didn't feel particularly good about his chances sneaking through the front. Here, at the city bridge, the only way through was forward. Three solid miles of forward made-up of a jagged road that crumbled to bits and broke off the skeleton structure holding it together the more he waited.

He followed a particular piece of road through the air as it plummeted into the choppy ocean below. The only other route was swimming. The waters were too rough to swim in and even if he salvaged a boat somewhere- none were even in sight- he would have to guide it around the spotlights of the Anglar aircraft, who didn't have to struggle around the crashing waves.

No, his only option was darting from one flaming car wreck to the next, staying out of the spotlights and making his way to the end of the bridge. Impossible, most likely, but his family, his friends were at the other end, and he didn't intend to leave them there.

He counted the first patrol's passing, then beat his feet to a truck, slamming against it. The ships didn't appear to hear the sound. There was some relief. He would be more relieved if he had a useful weapon of some kind instead of the paltry knife he took from the apartment.

After scurrying past a couple more ships, he scoped out the area ahead and his heart sank. The next path was a straight and narrow one with no cover for about a hundred yards. And the pair of ships guarding that section of the bridge were very thorough on manning it. How was he to get past that?

However, suddenly, one of the ships broke off from its patrol and flew into the city. The other one stayed behind and, unless his eyes were deceiving him, seemed to slow down. Slow enough to cover every inch in absence of its partner ship. Slow enough for Fox to run across and clear the section.

There was lucky and then there was _too_ lucky. Fox gazed overhead. None of the other ships paid him any attention, but his fur prickled and stood at end, honed to sense a trap from a mile away.

He looked past the ship and at the end of the bridge in the far, inky black distance. If he went forward, he would walk right into the enemy's hands. If he went back, and they knew he was here, they would shoot him.

On the slim off-chance they weren't aware of him though, then this was a lucky break, and if he headed back, he was squandering that chance. Either way, he had to rescue the others.

He timed the ship's pattern, then sprinted for cover, panting hard and careful of the narrow footing on the bridge. As the ship circled back around for another pass, he ran harder, throwing himself into cover between two crashed cars at the last second. The spotlight above glided over him, not sensing him, and he eased to a rest, catching his breath for a moment.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

The pre-flight check didn't take long, so Marcus sat in the glow of the consoles before him, replaying the night's events in his head. It was the first chance he had had to slow down and take stock of the situation. After all, only hours before he had been on the way to meet his folks and now he was suddenly in a pirate ship, about to take off and find the military of an invasion. He felt detached from this reality, like he was lucidly dreaming, inserting himself into one of his father's many, many adventurous stories.

His father. His mind kept circling back to Fox and his grip tightened on his seat. His father was out there, braving the night's dangers all on his own. And where was he? Tucked into a ship that a crotchety old man had to open for him.

"Junior? You there?" Falco's voice crinkled on the radio.

Marcus pushed the call button. "I told you to stop with that."

"Just heard from yours friends. They're almost there. Hopefully, they don't almost blow themselves up either."

"Bite me," Marcus muttered.

"What was that?"

Marcus forget the call button was still lit up. "Nothing," he said, quickly turning it off.

A few minutes drifted by. "Look, I get it. You don't like me. I rub a lot of people the wrong way and I'm fine with that. But if we're going to fly together, we need to trust each other, have it all out on the table." Marcus could feel Falco turning around in his seat to look in the vague direction of the pirate ship. "Ol' Foxy and I didn't _like_ each other, but there's no one else I would trust more at my wing. So what's your deal?"

Marcus punched the call button. "My _deal_ is that I want to get the military here and help Corneria before it's wiped off the map. That good enough?"

"So you want to save Corneria?"

"Yes."

"Be the big hero? Win all that love and adoration?"

"What? No!"

"Follow in daddy's footsteps?" Falco teased.

"It's not like that," Marcus said, hitting the hatch above him. "We just don't need some washed-up has-been looking for a cheap thrill!"

"This has-been has been flying for years and knows a lot more than you Junior."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Why? You sure are acting like your dad." Marcus dug his claws into his head, tearing at his scalp. "Turning into the spitting image of him, warts and all."

"I'm not my father!" Marcus yelled. Falco's taunting died and Marcus was alone again, listening to his own labored and heavy panting in the cockpit. The speaker didn't crackle as if Falco was about to talk some more. It was still, waiting with Falco for Marcus to continue.

He sat back in his chair, rubbing away the beginnings of a headache. "I'm not my father. By my age, he had left the Academy and already made a name for himself. Him, you, Uncle Slippy, and Uncle Peppy, and my mom later on. Everybody knew Star Fox."

"And you grew up in that shadow?" Falco said. Marcus nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see him. "You resent him?"

"No, not at all," Marcus said. "I love my parents. I look up to both of them and I want to be just like them. But look at me. I'm nothing like either of them. I'm still at the Academy and haven't done anything except be known as Fox McCloud's kid. I'm supposed to live up to his name, make him proud and all.

"But he always saved the day. He did something meaningful. Even now," his eyes trailed to the stars and imagined the ruined city outside, " he's trying to save everyone all by himself. Who can compete with that? I'm still stuck at the Academy and I know he's disappointed. Both my parents are." It was true. Every time he met with them, he could swear he saw disappointment in both of their eyes that he wasn't the son they hoped he would be. "That's why I wanted me, Tad, and Viv to find the military, be of some help, but do it on our own. Have something my parents could be proud of for a change. Turns out I couldn't even do that."

"Somehow, I think they're already proud of you," Falco finally said.

"How would you know? You've never been here."

"True, but I do know your dad and if he wasn't proud with you, you think he would spam my communicator with pictures of you 'til I want to throw it and him through a wall?"

He grinned and mumbled, "Maybe."

"Being in the Academy is nothing to sneeze at. If I was of the more, Academic-mind, I might be jealous. Your father was skilled even before the Academy, true, but he wasn't perfect. Him and Skippy were wet behind the ears when I fell in with them."

"And you were so much more experienced?"

"Well, I picked up a lot running with my gang."

"You were in a gang?" Marcus asked. That was news to him. "Is that where you learned how to disable the traps?"

"Among other things," he said. "I might tell you about it sometime. My point is I know there's a lot of tall tales about the Star Fox Team and how legendary we were. And we were, believe me." Marcus chuckled. "However, it's not all fated or sunhine like everyone makes it out to be. We had our problems, there were rough times. And when we first formed, we just happened to be in the right place at the right time to join together and save Corneria. Just like you're in the right place at the right time to do the same. Still think the Academy is so bad?"

"I guess not that bad."

"You're not your dad and you shouldn't be. I don't think he would want that. You're where you're meant to be and you'll learn a lot at the Academy. Maybe actually learn enough to not need mentor like he did. After all, you think Fox would have made it anywhere without Peppy's advice?"

"And let me guess: your skill too?"

"That's right."

Marcus grinned. "And Uncle Slippy's expertise?"

"Well, let's not get carried away. Slippy kept the ships in tip-top shape, but his flying," Falco shivered on the other end. "And when your mom joined, it was all I could do to pull your dad's head out of your mom's as-uh, assets, and back into the fight."

"That sounds like them."

"Disgusting with all those moony eyes, pet names, and all."

"Right, and you never did the same?"

"Not that it interfered with flying."

"That's not the way I hear it," Marcus bluffed. He thought his dad had mentioned some girl that used to tag along now and then with Falco, but couldn't place her name.

"Looks like we're getting the go-ahead from the others," Falco said, ending the subject. "We better get going."

"Uh-huh," Marcus said, smiling to himself and starting up the ship's engines.

 **A/N:** This one was pretty fun to do.

 **Sword:** Whoo! I'm hyped on post-Christmas goodness! Let's do this! *passes out*

 **Pen:** Sugar crash.

I think I might be crashing soon too. Before I do, thank you all for reading and please let us know what you think of it so far. As always, we love hearing from you all. Nighty-night.

 **Pen:** Hey, wait! Who's going to help me clean this up? There's wrappers and eggnog everywhere! I'm not picking this up, you hear me?


	6. Chapter 6: The Mastermind

**A/N:** I feel terrible

 **Sword:** * belches* I could go for seconds. After I throw up.

 **Pen:** Disgusting. The both of you.

Less talking, more introducing.

 **Pen:** Should push both your fat behinds down to the gym. As for all you people out there, you know what this is and you know that Marcus, Fox, Falco, and all the others belong to Nintendo. And you know that Sword, myself and the story belong to the author. And yes, yes, before anyone has a fit, he'd like to thank Marcus for his recent reviews. Now get going. I need to get a dolly for these two.

 **Sword:** Ooo, like a Hello Dolly?

 **Chapter 6- The Mastermind**

The further along the bridge Fox crawled, the more the path narrowed. Soon after the midway point, cars squeezed him on both sides, with barely any room to move. _Probably to keep anyone from escaping_ , he figured. _But why not destroy the bridge?_

The strangest part was he had yet to run into any bodies. Corpses had littered the city here and there. On the bridge, there were none. Ashes drifted in the air, remains of victims vaporized by the ships above. But that couldn't be the case for everyone.

 _Could it?_

He hurried to the end of the bridge, panic gripping his heart for fear of his team's fate. At the end, he quickly ducked into the shadows behind a building and surveyed the area.

Even though many of the buildings around this part of the city were civilian residences and shops, the Academy's influence from the center of the island had reached out and touched the structures. They seemed rigid, militaristic in design like one large base that catered to the Academy students and the military base on the other side of the island.

To his surprise, the patrols were scarce. In fact, aside from a few ships lazily circling patterns along the streets, there was no air security to speak of.

However, he did finally see some form of life across the street. Along the sidewalk, a pair of soldiers marched, arms and plasma rifles snapped to their chest, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Their steel gray armor didn't seem familiar to any race Fox knew of and he couldn't make out anything past the golden visors embedded into their round helmets.

In fact, the only thing Fox could tell about the soldiers was they stood at around his height. As they marched onward, he realized this was the first time he had seen an actual invader out of their ship, scouting the streets on foot. Normally, after an initial wave of bombardment, troops deployed to establish their dominance on a planet. But not here. Here, the goal so far had been to destroy, cause chaos. For what purpose though?

He wouldn't find out standing here. Once the patrol had passed, he scurried across the street, making his way for the Academy. The closer he got, the more soldier activity increased. When the Academy materialized in the distance, so did guards posted at the doors, keeping watch for any intruder.

Whatever was in the Academy, it had the most soldiers surrounding it. Which meant it must be very important. The question now was how he could get in?

If he remembered right, on the east side of the Academy, there was an apartment building with a balcony near the top that overlooked the Academy. With some rope, it was a popular route for students who had stayed out too late to slip back in without notice, with tenants only too happy to help assist their little rebellious attitude. Fox himself had had to make use of this route a few times. It was dangerous to be sure, as the wind that high could easily blow you off the rope and you'd splat on the ground before you could finish cursing the air. But it was less risky than running into the Academy administrators.

 _Or the soldiers in this case_ , he thought, keeping his distance and circling the Academy. Thunder rumbled overhead and light, sprinkling rain peppered his scalp. _Should keep me hidden. For now._

Ahead, the apartment building loomed over the Academy, quiet and stoic since the invasion, devoid of all life. He hustled to the entrance, slipping inside. The lobby was empty, abandoned in a hurry like everywhere else. Off to the side was a maintenance closet. He broke open the lock on the door and peered inside.

"Bingo." A maintenance rope, thick and study enough to hold his weight. He scooped it up, along with a flashlight and a heavy wrench, decent enough to knock someone out cold.

Fox took the stairs in the stairwell two at a time, stepping softly on the carpet until he reached the top floor. Outside, thunder boomed, closer than before, and the steady pattering of rain beat a rhythmic tune on the roof. Fox eased out of the stairwell and into the hall, checking each side. No sign of anyone.

Or they were well hidden.

It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness, but once they did, he noted a great relief. No dead bodies, thankfully. Looks like the people on this floor had escaped intact. Then he saw many of the apartment doors were smashed inwards, as if somebody had broken inside. His stomach knotted as in the light pouring from one apartment, he noted trails of claw marks the carpet. Someone had been forcibly dragged out of their home.

 _But why here?_ He closed the stairwell door shut gently and crept for the nearest apartment. _They haven't been rounding up people so far._

Unless it was a matter of convenience. These hostages were easy pickings due to the close proximity of the Academy. Those in the city were good to the invaders dead or alive.

Inside the apartment he chose, there had been a struggle. An imprint the size of someone's head was left in a wall and a small coffee table had collapsed in a heap in front of an upturned sofa, as if a body had been thrown into them. Scuff marks and blood spatters painted the rugs and floor.

 _Okay, so they have more hostages than I thought._ That would make this very difficult. However, he was getting too far ahead. First things first, he had to find a good balcony.

In the next apartment he tried, he found a thin balcony, jutting out far enough over the Academy, _As good as any_ , he figured, looking over. The rain outside had grown to a a fierce storm, highlighted by cracks of lightning and a crescendo of thunderous applause in the distance. When the lightning flashed, it lit up the top of the Academy below. Somehow, he didn't remember the balcony being this high.

He threw open the balcony glass door, bracing against the blast of wind and rain that rushed in. The biting drops stung his cheeks and eyes. He lifted his jacket to his face and headed out into the storm, keeping a tight grip on the balcony railing.

 _You've done this before_ , he told himself.

 _Never in this kind of weather!_

He looked down again. _I must be out of my mind._ He knelt close to the bottom of the railing, wrapping the rope slowly through it. At least these bars seemed sturdy and like they would hold him. He just needed to be careful climbing down and make sure he tied himself tight to the rope.

As he pulled the final knot through, he heard a gun power up behind him. Even through the howling wind, the mechanized voice was clear. "Halt! Stand up and turn around, or prepare to be executed."

Fox cursed to himself. Of course there would be soldiers up here. A plasma sniper rifle leveled at his chest as he turned around. A large, heavy gun that most soldiers needed to set on some surface to properly fire. Yet this person wielded it as easily as a side-arm. _Enhanced muscle fibers in the suit?_ Fox wondered. Whatever the case, it was obvious that the rifle's barrel could punch a hole clear through his heart and lungs.

More worrisome was the soldier on the other end. As soon as he saw Fox's face, his golden visor lit up with a wealth of information displayed on an internal HUD. One such piece of information was Fox's picture. "Primary target located," the visor said in a soft voice. "Fox McCloud."

"Stay-" the soldier started to say, but Fox took advantage of the momentary distraction. Slipping the wrench out of his pocket, he whacked the soldier's grip on the rifle and followed up by smashing him across the visor with it. The visor cracked and buzzed as the HUD tried to stay online.

The soldier reacted quickly, hitting Fox in the chin with the butt of the rifle. Fox fell backwards, dazed, and the soldier kicked his shin, making him stumble. After being clocked around the head, the soldier should be as dizzy as Fox felt. Yet he kept coming without pause. _No way this thing is human._

"This is your final warning. Stand down and do not resist," the soldier said, aiming right at Fox's head. He didn't doubt that the soldier could easily take his top off clean from here. But something in Fox told him the soldier wouldn't take the shot. They needed him alive, their primary target. For whatever reason, they had let him get this far and he doubted it was to be killed on a balcony here.

"You have five seconds to comply. Five."

Only one way out of this.

"Four."

Fox snaked his arm through the rope a few times.

"Three."

He hopped onto the balcony rails, threw the end of the rope over, and leapt off.

Or he would have if a strong hand hadn't jerked him back onto the slid along the rain-slicked tile and crashed into the glass doors. He sat up, his head a throbbing ball of aches and pains.

"Further resistance will be met with fatal repercussions," the soldier said, training the rifle at Fox. For a heartbeat, the barrel pointed at his chest and Fox feared he had misjudged the situation. Then the gun shifted to his shoulder, powering up. A warning shot, meant to graze.

The target change cost the soldier and Fox rolled out of the way. Ducking under the laser blast, he swooped in and upwards, grabbing one side of the sniper rifle and wrestling with the soldier for it. They kicked at one another, tugging hard in either direction, but neither let go of the rifle for even a second.

Unfortunately, the soldier outclassed him in strength, whether because of the suit or something inhuman. Fox searched for an option, saw the rope and barrier around the balcony, and had an idea. An awful idea, the kind that Peppy said would someday get him killed.

 _Better odds than against this thing_. He planted his feet, twisted his torso, and jerked the gun around and toward him, pulling at the soldier's arms.

As expected, the soldier stood firm and yanked back with more force. Too much force. Fox stopped resisting for a moment, flying around the soldier with one hand on the rifle and the other stretching for the rope. The soldier's own momentum worked against it and it crashed into the barrier along with Fox, breaking it off its hinges and both went over the edge.

* * *

Marcus had had some misgivings about the pirate ship at first, always used to flying in an Arwing. But once he left the hanger and had soared for a while, he felt at ease. The ship was larger and bulkier than the standard Arwing, but it felt pretty fast and its engines rumbled powerfully behind him.

"This is a pretty good ship," he said, admiring it as he pulled alongside Falco. "Wonder where I can get one?"

Falco did a double-take from his cockpit, spooked by something on the wing.

"What's wrong? Is there something on the wing?"

"It's nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Let's just be sure to ditch that when we're done. Pirates aren't known for being good at sharing. Everyone, stay close to the water. We don't want to be picked up on their radar."

"Roger that," Val said from Falco's other side. All four of them flew low skirting along the water's surface.

"How far is the military base?" Tad asked from Marcus' left wing.

"Not too far," Falco said. "Should reach it in twenty minutes or so."

"Provided we don't run into any trouble."

Marcus' warning lights blared to life and the monitor in front of him flashed with information. "A squad of bogeys on our tail," he read aloud, then shot Tad an evil eye. "You and your big mouth."

"Reading ten of them total," Falco said. "Everyone, break off. Evasive maneuvers."

Marcus broke off with Tad, both climbing high and banking sharply to the left as incoming laser fire chased them. Tad yelped over the radio. "That wasn't no ring!"

"Looks like some new models," Falco said. Looking behind him, Tad saw that he was right. These designs seemed sleeker, faster, and deadlier, armed with powerful lasers. "Let's see you earn your hat this time, Tex."

Tad grumbled, but two ships had locked onto his and Marcus' tails. They pulled up high and dove low. The ships followed, staying right on them and clipping their wings with gunfire. Marcus' ship blared warnings and lights flashed around him. They were gaining on his ship. He couldn't lose them and these enemies were about to shoot him and Tad down!

"You're not racing some AI in a simulation!" Falco barked over the radio. He swooped around a ship circling him and Valerie and blasted it its engines. The ship exploded into a ball of fire and crashed into the ocean like a comet. "This is real and these things _will_ kill you if you don't out-fly them. I know that the Academy training is good for something. Use it."

Marcus shook his head. Falco was right. They needed to out-fly these things. _Think, think._ Academy training. Their flying courses. The instructors had given them some tips.

"Hey, Tad," he said. "Roller coaster maneuver?"

"Roller coaster?" he said slowly. "I...think I remember that?"

"Follow my lead." He separated from Tad, each turning sharply away and down from each other. Marcus pulled up hard on the control stick, his wing cutting through the water, and came up at nearly a vertical angle. The panel in front of him blared with red warning lights, indicating a possible stall and the control stick shuddered. _Hold together. Please hold together._

Tad came up close, both of them on an intersect course. He pulled up a little more and saw Tad's ship dip lower. The ships barely missed on another and Marcus' ship stalled and jostled him in his seat. _No, no, no!_ He jerked the control stick, wrestling with the ship, and regained control before it took a nose dive into the ocean. He circled back around with Tad, now behind the enemy.

"Light 'em up," Marcus said, pressing his fire button.

The targeting system locked on. One ship exploded, then the other. They flew through the already dissipating fire and came out on the other side.

"Whoo! We got them! You see that?" Tad hollered.

"Great, but don't celebrate yet," Falco said, his Arwing going into a spin to deflect a laser blast. The laser bounced off his ship and hit another passing above him. Tad whistled in appreciation as Falco played chicken with an oncoming ship, heading straight for it, destroying its cockpit with laserfire and pulling up at the last second.

"Let's see what you got sharpshooter," he said. Up above, Valerie had a ship on her tail closing in fast. The enemy ship peppered her ship's tail with well-placed shots and she screamed as her ship shuddered and started to go into a spin, pointing directly at the ocean

"Val!" Tad yelled, pulling his ship up.

"Focus on your problems!" Falco said. Marcus saw another pair of ships heading their way. "She's got this."

Indeed, as Marcus watched, her ship spun faster and faster. But not in an fiery crash free-fall. In fact, the more she dropped, the more she forced to ship to spin until she was yards away from the ocean's surface. She pulled up out of the dive, straightening out and returning to the fight.

The enemy ship was not as lucky. It tried and failed to pull up, skipping along the water a few times, and turned belly-up, sinking into the dark depths.

Marcus breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he had been holding. "Good one, Val."

She chuckled airily, out of breath and panting herself. "Well, once you factor in their size and weight of our ships, and correct velocity for the fall, it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to follow my ship's dive."

"Glad you're okay," Tad said.

"Me too. You two need any help?"

"I think they got it," Falco said, taking down one more ship. "Last two remaining. They're all yours, boys."

Marcus grinned and looked over at Tad. "Belly rub?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Falco snorted over the comms and Marcus heard a faint, "McClouds." He and Tad separated once more and as expected, the pair of incoming ships split to give chase to each of them. Marcus circled wide and lined up with Tad, hitting the accelerator fast and coming at him head-on.

"On three," he said. "One," he powered up his guns as they neared one another, "two." He grabbed the control stick tight, his fingers digging into the rubber grip. "Three!"

Their ships jerked sideways, flying at parallel angles. Unfortunately, Marcus hadn't accounted for the size difference in their ships from the Arwings and nearly hit Tad. He adjusted at the last moment, the bottom of his pirate ship brushing past Tad's military plane. Their enemies were taken by surprised as they were shot out of the air within seconds.

"And the crowd goes wild!" Marcus cheered. Tad and Valerie joined in, all congratulating one another and talking excitedly about what just happened.

"Man, that dive you did!"

"But when you swooped behind those two-"

"I really thought we were going to crash."

"So you can handle yourselves in a fight," Falco said, cutting off the celebration. "Good. Because I have a feeling we're in for one."

Before Marcus could ask what he meant, he fed a transmission through their speakers. "-Base Charlie! Confirmation code: gamma-gamma-niner-five!" An explosion rocketed in the background and they only heard static for a moment. "-nyone out there, we are under attack by unknown forces! Request immediate assistance! Does anyone read? Hello? Hello?" The voice paused for a moment, then started again, "This is Corneria Airforce Base Charlie!"

"It repeats after that," Falco said, shutting it off.

"A recording?" Tad asked.

"Then that means everyone is gone," Val concluded slowly.

"Maybe, maybe not," Falco said. "The fact that it's still broadcasting may be a good sign. But we need to be prepared for an ambush. Stay close to each other and stay low, clear?"

"Crystal," Val and Tad said.

Marcus sighed, his jubilation at his first combat in the skies once more replaced with that seeping cold in his bones. They still had a long way to go before this nightmare was over. "Yeah." They turned their ships back toward the horizon and whatever waited for them at the base.

* * *

The barrier creaked and groaned, tearing out pole by pole and flapping wildly in the storm. Fox tumbled down the rungs, head over heels, reaching out for anything to grab. He felt the rope for a second, then it was gone. He tried for a rung and managed to close his fingers around one.

The soldier fell lower, but still gained a hold on the last rung. _Oh, come on!_ The barrier jerked, the metal creaking under the weight and pulling at the last pole in the balcony. _How much does this thing weigh?_

It didn't help that the soldier swung its legs up and over another rung, pulling the barrier down more. Fox wiped his eyes and searched for the rope in the rain. A faint black shape dangled nearby, fading in and out of focus. It seemed like the rope, but he wasn't sure.

 _Thunk._ Another bit of the barrier came loose as the soldier climbed another rung.

 _You've been right before, Peppy_ , Fox thought, kicking the barrier and swinging on it. _Can't let you be right all the time._

He threw his weight into the barrier and that shook loose the last bit clinging to the balcony. As the barrier crashed against the outside of the building, Fox pushed off of it and jumped for the rope.

His claws dragged and dug into the strands, but he caught it, wrapping his arms and legs around it. The soldier wasn't as lucky, disappearing with the barrier into the mass of rain that shrouded the ground.

Fox stayed where he was, easing his breathing until he was chilled through his clothes. _You were wrong, Peppy_ , he said to himself as he slid down the rope bit by bit at a time. _But hey, if I was to die, you wouldn't get to tell me, "I told you so." So we both win._

The top of the Academy started to come into view as he slid down further. Thankfully, he was obscured from any soldiers on top of the Academy as he descended. Then again, so were they.

As the ground came into focus, so did the fallen soldier, crushed under the barrier on top of it. The hands had popped out of the sockets, leaving strands of wires connecting them to the wrists, and the body was twisted and crumpled, its metal exoskeleton tore to reveal the mechanical parts underneath. A robot. A whole army of robots.

 _That explains the speed of the attack._ Whoever this was could manufacture more at a moment's notice. That left one person: Andross. Only he could coordinate an attack like this. And since the Anglars hailed from Venom too, appropriating their ship design wouldn't have been too hard.

The only problem that explanation raised was that Andross was dead. Had been for years. Fox and his team had seen to that personally.

 _He's been dead before._ He rummaged through the corpse, checking the sniper rifle. Broken, of course. No secondary weapon either.

 _Who else could have his intelligence though?_ _Who else hates Corneria enough to start a war?_ The second face that appeared was Oikonny, but he lacked neither the brains, nor strategy for such an endeavor.

Fox looked around. He needed to get out of the open before he was spotted. He dashed for the nearest building, sneaking into the halls, and dripped a trail of water on the floor, failing to completely muffle his footsteps.

 _Okay, focus on the hostages. Where would they be kept?_ No sooner had he asked that, a bright light cut through the rainy darkness. The light shone from the courtyard, illuminating the gymnasium.

Creeping close to a door at the other side of the building, Fox peered out. This had trap written all over it. They must know he was here. However, the longer they went without acknowledging his presence, the more frustrated he became. What kind of game were these sick maniacs playing at?

 _Least I can do is not take their way._ Unless the Academy had re-modeled, there should be a door to the side. He could just make it out in the storm. Taking a deep breath, he ran for the side door of the gym and burst into a locker room.

Immediately, the intercoms in the locker room blared to life with a low, threatening tone intercut with a whine from a microphone. "Will Fox McCloud please report to the court? I repeat, will Fox McCloud please report to the court? Your family is waiting."

That voice sounded familiar. He was sure he had heard it long ago, but couldn't place it. Something about it reminded him of the Anglars. No sense hiding now. He marched through the doors and into the large court of the gym.

The first thing he noticed were Krystal, his friends, and all the students and faculty rounded into a large spotlight at the center of the court. Robot soldiers surrounded them, at complete attention and prepared to massacre if needed. Krystal perked up as he entered and her fearful eyes for Fox went from him to the speaker with the microphone nearby.

"Well done. An A plus for your exercises," the speaker said, dropping the microphone and exchanging it for a blaster from his coat. "You'll be the star of the team for sure. Why don't you take a load off and rest? You've earned it."

As the speaker turned around, his hair and curly goatee were highlighted in the blinding white light. Fox's heart stopped for a moment, swearing that he saw Andross' ghost right before him. But as his eyes adjusted, the white simian before him took shape and he realized there were a few different factors. This person was younger, shorter, but he was the spitting image of Andross, a descendant to be sure with the same twisted hate in his dark eyes and evil sneer gracing his lips.

"Dash," Fox breathed as his heart restarted.

Dash spun the blaster around his finger, then held it to Krystal's head. "Take a seat, Fox." He pressed the end into her head, his finger dangerously close to squeezing the trigger. "I insist."

 **A/N:** Ugh, I think I can finally move.

 **Sword:** Just in time to scarf down Valentine's Day candy!

Ooo, like those conversation hearts.

 **Pen:** No! Bad, Sword! *whaps with a newspaper I'm not going to waste money clearing your arteries of plaque again!

 **Sword:** Fine. Hey all you peoples! Thank you for reading. Please let us know what you think of it! We love hearing from you because we love you all! And maybe leave some candy on the way out?

 **Pen:** No.


	7. Chapter 7: Airforce Base Charlie

**A/N:** Ugh.

 **Pen:** Feeling better?

I guess so.

 **Pen:** Good. *shoves story to author* You can deal with this nonsense for a while then.

Ow, not so loud. *sits down* Hello, everyone. Let's get to it then. Marcus, Fox, Falco, and all the others belong to Nintendo. Sword, Pen, and the story belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you to bryan mccloud and Marcus for their recent reviews.

 **Pen:** *rolls Sword along* It's like rolling a bowling ball.

 **Sword:** I'm gonna go for a 7-10 split! Ooo, and how about a banana split?

Please enjoy.

 **Chapter 7- Airforce Base Charlie**

The island that the Airforce Base was nestled into appeared as a dark lump rising out of the water in the distance. With the gathering thunder clouds overhead, it was difficult to see much of anything besides the steep mountain ranges acting as a natural shield for the base from water attacks. Marcus' father had taken him here a time or two, visiting old friends from the Airforce and he started to recall the memories he had of the base's layout.

Then a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the horizon and stealing Marcus' attention away from the island. Hovering several hundred feet above, massive flagships watched over the island like giant beasts keeping watch over their young. Before he could gasp in shock, the light disappeared and returned the horizon to its murky, featureless form.

"Everyone else saw that, right?" Tad asked.

"Yeah," Falco said, his tone grim.

"At least it's not an ambush," Valerie said.

"Let's go lower," Marcus said. "There should be a small cove on the left," he remembered. "We can land there and scout it out." The rest agreed and followed him around the island, their ships barely touching the water as they stayed low and under any radar.

The cove was right where he remembered and they landed their ships on the beach. Before Marcus climbed out, he checked the storage compartments near him. A blaster, some credits, and, when he rooted through some other junk deeper, a basic repair kit. _Could come in handy_ , he thought, stuffing the blaster and repair kit in his pocket and leaving the rest behind.

While the others descended their ships, he checked out the side of the pirate ship. There was a logo of some kind painted on the side. A wolf's head of some sort, but it didn't seem familiar to him. Maybe some kind of gang? One that Falco knew and would have him spooked? He would ask about it later.

"Which way?" Val asked.

"Should be a path here," Marcus said, pointing at a narrow dirt path leading through a short cave and winding up the mountain sides. They fell in line behind him and headed up the path, careful of rocks and other steep areas. Soon, they crested the mountain and had a full view of the island. Or as much as they could see in the dark.

The flagships still docked overhead, now monstrously large from this position. Circular entrances shunted open and close like gills on their underbellies, allowing the Anglar ships buzzing around them to enter and leave at will.

Below in the valley of the mountains, the base had taken plenty of damage, Buildings had been leveled and dozens of wrecked remains of Cornerian ships lay in heaps all around. Fires were still burning throughout, not in danger of setting the base ablaze, but granting enough light for them to see the carnage first-hand. And, much to Marcus' chagrin, enough to see those who had fallen.

The battle- _Slaughter seems more appropriate._ \- was already over and lost. Even the enemy knew that, as the small Anglar planes merely patrolled at a leisurely pace, waiting for the flagships to act. But if the battle was over and done with, why did they linger here? For hostages? For something in the base?

Everyone seemed to have the same thought."What now?" Val asked.

"Unless I'm mistaken, that's the command center," Marcus said, pointing to the central building. The building with the most activity around it. "I would think the radio room would be in there."

"I think you're right," Falco said. "That's assuming these guys didn't blow it to bits already and force the base to broadcast from somewhere else on the island." Marcus looked around and noted how many spots in the mountains alone one could hide. Little nooks and and small caves. Anything was possible.

"This is our best shot for now," he said. "At least we can try to find out what's happening."

Falco nodded and began climbing down. "Let's get a little closer and see if we can't find a way in."

* * *

Almost immediately after Fox had taken a seat beside Krystal, Dash changed his mind and had the entire Star Fox team and family stand, marching them through the rain to the administration building and into the headmaster's office. A half dozen soldiers followed, tying them securely to chairs and lining them against the wall.

While Dash directed the soldiers' placement in and outside of the office, Fox leaned into Krystal. "You okay? Are you all okay"

"We're fine," she said, answering for everyone. "What about Marcus? Did he escape?"

"And Tad?" Slippy and Amanda piped up.

Lucy's eyes widened to the same size as Slippy's. "And Valerie? Is she safe?"

"I'm not sure, but I think they got away." Their anxiety remained and he couldn't blame them. He had felt the same since last seeing Marcus. "But they're with Falco, remember?" he said, using the same line of logic he had used on himself. "I'm sure he got them out. You know how he is."

"Oh, so Falco _is_ here," Dash said, coming into the tail-end of the conversation. "And here I thought I would have to make do with an incomplete set. This is splendid."

"Why are you doing this, Dash?" Peppy asked. "Why are you working with the Anglars?"

Dash bent over, leering in the old man's face, his lips stretched back over his large, unnatural teeth. "My, my, my. Time must have caught up with you if you can't see what's right in front of your face." His eyes shifted to Fox. "Why don't I let your little protégé fill you in?"

"They're not the Anglars," Fox said, briefly explaining his tussle on the balcony with the robot. "They're all machines. Made by you?"

"But of course," Dash said. "I'm happy they gave you such a challenge. I should make a note to work on their reaction time though."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here," Krystal said. "Why attack Corneria? You helped us before."

Dash waved off her plea. "Many years ago. All of you were allies of convenience. The Anglars were always a problem on Venom, even during Andross' reign. It was only after his death they tried to seize power for themselves."

"So you needed us to clear the way for you?" Fox reasoned.

"Exactly," he said, lifting his blaster and admiring its finish. "I lacked the resources to match theirs. But once the Anglar Emperor was defeated, I was free to return to the planet and understood my grandfather's grand vision for this galaxy, to lead it into a new era instead of controlled by a tired, out-of-touch old guard.

"I must admit, not all of this was my own doing. The Anglars had some pretty advanced designs too. Ideas that my grandfather never thought of." He circled around on of the soldiers, sweeping some imaginary dust from its shoulder. "Of course, on the whole, Andross' designs were far superior. You can't imagine some of the things he cooked up, things he never got to build and you never got to see. But I promise, you will one day."

"And you attacked Corneria why?"

"Strike where the enemy is weakest. The Cornerian government hasn't had a challenge in a long while. They were never fantastic to begin with, always relying on the legendary Star Fox to come to their rescue, but especially now they have become fat, weak, and slothful in their complacency. With Corneria being the central hub of the galaxy, it should be all too easy to spread out to the other systems."

"You're insane," Amanda said.

"No, my dear," he smiled. "I'm only finishing what my grandfather started. A war to control the galaxy. And making sure all of you don't get in my way."

"That's the reason why?" Peppy asked. "You're doing this for a family grudge?"

Dash cocked an eyebrow. "Grudge?" he said, as if the word was foreign to his lips. "You mean against you stopping him? No, that's just a personal hate he had for you. I believe I said 'control the galaxy', 'new era', did I not?" He looked to one of the soldiers for confirmation, but they didn't respond. "No, this is simply eliminating any elements that can stop me. You're good, Star Fox. Very good, enough to destroy Andross and inspire hope in the people of Corneria. I can't allow you to stay around, simple as that."

He raised his blaster and fired one bolt into Peppy's chest. The rabbit gasped and slumped over in his chair, a cauterized hole sizzling from his shirt.

"Now, _that_ , would be a family grudge," he said and nodded to Lucy. "I'm sure she'll have a fierce one against mine. Hope you understand the difference now."

Lucy's mouth hung open, her eyes slowly blinking, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Then as quick as lightning, her mind snapped back into focus, digesting the situation all at once, and she yelled at the top of her lungs. "NO!"

Everyone screamed for Peppy, trying to get some sort of response out of him. But the old hare didn't move. "Is he breathing?" Lucy demanded of Slippy, who leaned in close to Peppy, listening for any sign of life. A heartbeat, a gasp, anything. "Is he breathing?"

"I...maybe?" he swallowed, "I can't hear anything. I don't know."

Fox stretched his bonds, thrashing in his chair, snapping his teeth at the ropes and at Dash. "You low-down, son of a-"

Another bolt between his ears silenced the room. "Shut. Up," Dash said calmly. "Or the next two go in your wife's pretty eyes."

Fox snarled, his claws clenched, but he sat back in his chair, fuming at Dash. Slippy continued to check Peppy, but there was still no response.

"Now, sit tight. I have a bird of yours to find. Because if anyone can give you a run for your money at being a nuisance, Fox, it's Falco." He summoned one of the soldiers and directed it to spread the order to capture Falco on sight, along with the children. Once he dismissed the soldier, he gave the team a once-over. "I have to leave for a while. Conquering planets isn't all fun and games. If you're very good, then when I get back, I'll let you see your children one last time." A nasty grin worked its way up his cheek. "If not, then watching Peppy there isn't even a sample of what I'll do to them. And each of you will see every, single detail of what I'll do. I promise you that."

* * *

Marcus shivered and looked around the mountainside. Something didn't sit right. _Of course not. You're heading into enemy territory._

That wasn't quite it. There was something more, as if there was danger, both far and near at the same time, to someone close. Like his parents. _Concentrate on this. We'll save them soon._

The command center towered above them. The night had grown exceedingly warm as the small fires burned the scant vegetation around them. Marcus crouched behind a bombed-out wall with the others and peered over the crumbling stone. No real sign of life anywhere.

"Anyone have any ideas?" he asked.

"We could use the buildings for cover," Tad said. "Make our way around to the front."

"Only thing to worry about is any guards. They could be waiting in the wings. Now, we could divert their attention," Falco said, picking up a discarded, unused grenade from behind the wall. The owner must have never had a chance to throw it in time. "That's assuming we can find something large enough to grab their attention. And enough firepower to distract them with."

Most of the base was demolished, so their only option would be some large explosion. Falco did have a point that they would need to gather enough materials for it, which would take precious time. And if they did set off a distraction, that was sure to alert the enemy to an intruder.

He looked to Val for her input, but she was preoccupied with something in the armory across from the wall they hid behind. "Val?" he asked.

"We could ask him," she pointed. In the pitch black entryway, they saw a pair of deep green eyes staring back at them, and a blaster emerged from the shadows after it.

"Woah, friendly," Marcus said, raising his hands.

"Call sign?" the gunner asked, never taking his eyes off them.

Falco squinted and leaned forward. "Bill? Is that you?"

The gun froze and a white snout slowly appeared, followed by a bulldog's face. "Falco?" he asked incredulously. A ship flew by overhead and he ducked back into the shadows. Once the ship passed by, he waved them into the armory. "This way! Hurry up!"

They scurried into the building, taking shelter from the windows and door. "Down here," he said, pointing to a set of stairs that led deep into the ground. "Get below." They quickly descended the stairs and the bulldog hit a button below the ground, closing a hatch over the stairwell and hiding it.

He hopped down and zeroed in on Falco. "That really you?"

"In the flesh," Falco said, spreading his arms.

The bulldog sized him up. "Can't be. You're too old and fat." He broke out into a grin and clasped Falco in a hug, patting his back. "I should've known you'd be in the middle of this as usual. The others with you?" He looked around and noticed Marcus, Valerie, and Tad.

"You three from the Academy?" he asked.

They noted the Colonel patches on his shoulder and immediately saluted him. "Yes, sir," Val said.

"At ease," the Colonel said, chuckling. "Nice to know the situation hasn't broken down _all_ order in the military."

"Valerie, Tad, and Marcus," Falco said, introducing them quickly and then pushed Marcus forward a little. "You should at least know this one well enough. I'm sure you get bombarded will all the same pictures I do."

The bulldog focused on Marcus' features for a moment, then his eyes widened in recognition. "Fox's kid!" he said, then pointed out the other two. "Slippy's and," he snapped his fingers, "Lucy's. Wow," he turned back to Marcus, "I haven't seen you since you were this high," he said, holding the edge of his palm flat against his stomach. "You probably don't remember me. Name's Bill Grey. I'm a friend of your dad's."

"Yeah, I think I do," Marcus said, shaking his hand. "My dad used to tell me all about you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, they grow up so fast," Falco said, ending the introductions. "Look, we need your help."

"I'll say. You were about to walk right into the hornet's nest." He beckoned them to follow him down the steel-lined tunnel. "So, how did you wind up here?"

"It's a long story," Marcus said and gave a brief account of their night thus far.

Bill grimaced by the end of the story. "I'm sorry about your folks. They're good people. If I could help, I would, but I'm afraid we're grounded."

"Who's in charge?" Falco asked.

Bill grimace shifted into a wry grin. "You're looking at the poor sap. The general is M.I.A."

"You are screwed," Falco said, offering a chuckle with his joke. But between Falco and his friend, Marcus sensed that there was truth in the words. Their plan for back-up from the base wasn't looking likely. "No ships?"

"Some. But they're being watched by our friends above. They took over the base, hunted many of us down, and cut off all communications. We've been stuck here for hours with no word from anyone. Guess we know why now."

"Any idea what they want?" Marcus asked.

Bill clucked his tongue. "I have a theory, but we can discuss it inside. Here we are," he tapped a code into a keypad beside a door and it slid open, revealing a small emergency barracks, lined with bunks, and a handful of squads sleeping, eating, cleaning weapons, or in corners killing time amongst conversation and card games.

"Let's get you something to eat. I'm betting you're hungry."

Marcus hadn't realized it, but his stomach was trying to eat itself and growled at the mention of food. "Very. Thank you."

Bill nodded, sweeping them inside and closing the door behind them.

 **A/N:**

 **Sword:** *rolls back into the room and rolls too far* Noooooo!

That one part was a hard and we agonized if we should include it. In the end, we decided to.

 **Sword:** *rolls backwards* B-B-But he's not…he's not really…?

We'll have more out soon. In the meantime, thank you for reading and please let us know what you think of it so far. See you soon!


	8. Chapter 8: Escape

**A/N:** Hello and welcome back.

 **Sword:** Story! Now! Hurry!

 **Pen:** Ow! Stop shoving, you lummox! We're getting to it.

Well, I suppose we shouldn't waste any time. As always, Marcus, Fox, Falco, and all the others belong to Nintendo. Sword, Pen, and the story belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you to bryan mccloud for his recent review. And now, enjoy.

 **Chapter 8 - Escape**

Marcus was hungrier than he thought and wound up chowing down two plates of food. Much of it ended on the floor through laughter as he, Valerie, and Tad listened to Bill regale them in some of Falco's youthful misadventures.

"Now the whole base is swarmed at this point," Bill said, emphasizing the point. "Even with Star Fox there, we've lost this one. But this guy," he jabbed a finger at Falco, "is determined to take them down, even if he has to push them down with his ship and blow himself up. While Peppy is asking if we need help, I hear 'Let me at 'em!' and this hotshot speeds by, quick as lightning in his Arwing."

"All of you were impressed," Falco said, defending his actions. "Sat there all slack-jawed."

"Oh, I was impressed alright. Impressed someone would be so ballsy and stupid all at once."

"Your humor is as bad as your memory."

Bill grinned. "Good enough for your protégées there." Beside him, Marcus, Valerie and Tad were beet-red, chomping back their laughter. "Anyway, he goes in ahead of us, takes a few down. Next time I look, he's gotten himself surrounded. By the grace of God he gets lucky-"

"I saw an opening," Falco clarified.

"-and gets five ships chasing him over the ocean. By this point, his Arwing is pretty beat-up. I'm talking one wing on fire, the other torn up so the innards are exposed, whole thing shuddering and diving like it's about to fall apart. He holds it together and skirts the water, throwing up waves behind him. I'm thinking at this point that he's done, there's no chance a little water is going to get them.

"What none of us knew was is that this crazy bird has a bomb locked and loaded in his Arwing. Once he was far enough over the water, he set the timer. Now he's cooking this thing, waiting to let it go. A couple seconds pass and he drops it in the water. With the waves kicking up, neither us or Andross' guys can see it. But almost as soon as it sinks under the surface: BOOM!" His hands exploded from his laps, creating a huge arc.

A few other soldiers had joined in the small circle and looked at Falco with a sense of awe and wonder, as if all the stories they've heard over the years were true because here he was, having survived them.

"Knocks out all the ships chasing him. A few are exploding left and right, just boom, boom, boom!" Bill closes and pops open his fingers for emphasis. "The remains vaporized. The others are sinking into the water and Falco is at the other end, gunning the Arwing, trying to stay ahead of the blast. Just when it looks like it's going to overtake him, the bomb reaches its full range and he pulls out just in time to crash into the water."

"You took out all five at once?" Tad asked.

Falco grunted and looked at Bill. "Told you your memory was bad." A grin cracked his face. "It was _six_ ships."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry. I'll make sure to jot that down. Not the craziest thing I ever saw him do, but certainly one of the stupidest."

"You weren't exactly always playing it safe either."

"True," Bill said, shrugging, "but you and Fox were infamous for the stunts you would pull and escaping by the skin of your teeth. Your dad was almost worse," he said to Marcus. "One time..." but the story died on his lips. Marcus could sense the waxy color that must be on his face at the mention of his father. It was the same Valerie and Tad had as all three set their plates aside, suddenly losing what was left of their appetite.

The soldiers who had been listening in went back to their previous activities, well aware of the change in tone. "Sorry," Bill said.

"It's okay," Marcus said. "It's probably time you told us your theory, about why this force is here."

He nodded and folded his hands, heaving a sigh. "Right." He looked up at Falco. "Remember the Orbital Gate Station?"

"The one from the Aparoids? Sure. We used it to jump to their homeworld." His eyes widened and it appeared like a major piece of the puzzle clicked into place for him. "Oh."

"Right. We picked up these guys entering Corneria's atmosphere far too late. One minute it's empty, the next there's a whole invasion. They must have used the gate to reach us. After the Aparoids, the Cornerian government restricted use of the Orbital Gate Station for official military use. And take a wild guess where the controls for it were moved to?"

"Lucky you," Falco said.

"Yeah," Bill sipped some water, swirling it around in his mug. "The idea was to have it in a secondary, unlikely base to prevent our enemies from finding and using it. Well, that went up in smoke."

"Sorry, but what is the Orbital Gate Station?" Valerie asked.

"I'm sure your friend here can enlighten you," Bill pointed at Tad. "His dad and granddad built it."

Tad tipped up his hat and rubbed his chin, recalling what he knew in pieces. "My dad's talked about it before. It was supposed to be a station that allowed ships to jump to any point in the galaxy. Instant transport for ships of any size."

A memory stirred within Marcus' mind of hearing Slippy wax a tale about this before. "And you're saying these guys built their own Orbital Gate Station to link to Corneria's?" he asked Bill. "If that's the case, why do they need ours? They already have their own."

"Not necessarily," Bill said. "When we picked up their forces, we noticed some dangerously high energy readings, more than the Orbital Gate Station ever put out. I think these guys had a rough idea of our own and tried to copy it, but didn't have the know-how to put it together to last."

"You're saying it exploded when they used it? A one-time use deal?"

"That would explain the energy reading. That and their full fleet didn't make it. One of their flagships was already on fire when it appeared, as if it had taken a lot of damage, and exploded almost instantly. A few of the smaller ships seemed to hover in and out of Corneria's atmosphere, as if caught somewhere between the two points in reality before disappearing. Not sure what happened to them."

"So this all could've been worse," Val said.

"Exactly. Thank goodness for small favors." Bill polished off his drink. "Anyway, that's my theory on it. Could be wrong, but they have been hanging around here a lot and the controls for the Orbital Gate Station are in the command center."

It dawned on Marcus what the implications of having such a tool would mean. The Orbital Gate Station could connect to anywhere in the galaxy. _Anywhere_.

"Now you're getting it," Bill said, noting the light sparking in Marcus' eyes. "Corneria is the central hub of the known galaxy. Transportation, commerce, military, you name it. It's prime real estate if they establish a foothold here. From here, these guys could launch an attack on any planet."

"We need to stop them then," Marcus jumped to his feet. "Like, right now!"

Immediately, Falco laid an arm on his shoulder and pulled him back down. "You're embarrassing yourself, Junior. We know that and I'm sure Bill has something else knocking around in that empty mind of his."

Bill lightly kicked at Falco's shin, but grinned. "I do actually. Like I said, the controls for the gate are in the command center, as well as communications to bases on other planets. However, that's all being guarded by the flagship above it and all the patrols."

"So you need someone to distract the flagship and its drones while you all sneak in and what? Call for reinforcements?" Marcus asked.

Bill shook his head. "No, as soon as the flagship saw you, you'd be space dust. And we don't know how much data they've stolen. They may decide they have enough to build a working Orbital Gate Station this time and decide to bomb us to oblivion before we can open the gate. To make sure this works, we're going to have to take out the flagship. Then we can call out to the Cornerian forces elsewhere. There should be a good amount on Fichina who can get here quickly. Perhaps others."

"And how do you plan on taking out the flagship?" Falco asked.

"You should like this," Bill said and whistled to one of the grunts playing cards. "Go grab our secret weapon for our guests."

The soldier double-timed it down a hall and came back, carrying a metal contraption as large as his torso. It was crudely comprised of spare ship parts and had a digital read-out slapped to its front. It looked like some sort of underwater container, with bars to hold it from all sides that divers could use to push it through the water.

Then Marcus noted the sloshing, silvery liquid inside a glass tube behind the readout and had a sneaking suspicion of the device's true purpose. Falco whistled low. "Be still my heart. That thing could level the island."

"I'll settle on it leveling the flagship," Bill said.

"A bomb?" Tad asked, catching on. "Where did you gets the parts?"

"Around. Managed to scavenge some things those robots didn't take."

"How do you plan on getting it aboard the flagship?" Valerie asked. "I'm guessing you'll need a ship. Doubt any of ours will do."

"You're right on that." A sly grin worked its way up Bill's muzzle. "Fortunately, I know where we can get one."

* * *

Fox jimmied at the handcuffs holding him to the chair. They didn't give him much room to work with. On the upside, he was farthest down in the row and his hands were out of view of the robot. If he had his knife, he could have picked the lock. However, Dash had made a point to relieve him of any items once he surrendered himself in the gym.

He glanced around the room for anything within reach to use. Down the row, Lucy was still weeping for her father and try as he might, Slippy couldn't get a response out of Peppy. Krystal's face was scrunched in concentration, attempting to access Peppy's thoughts. But judging by her face, it was difficult with him in this state. If it was possible at all.

Fox shoved those thoughts aside and looked down. _Worry about getting out of here first._ There was nothing he could have done. Or that's what he told himself over and over as he jerked at the handcuffs.

His vision blurred as he yanked hard on the handcuffs, scooting his chair and drawing the attention of the nearest guard and Krystal. Fox champed down hard on his teeth and kicked at the legs of the chair. The guard ignored him, returning to its post, but Krystal's gaze remained.

 _Fox_ , her soft voice whispered in his mind. He didn't want to raise his head. He couldn't, not now, or he would lose all control of himself.

 _Fox_ , she prodded gently again. She wouldn't give in. He met her halfway and glanced at her from the corner of his eye, signaling that he heard her. _I'm sorry._

 _It's not your fault_ , he told her. _Is he alive?_

She sighed and offered a simple shrug. _It's hard to say._ His body stiffened at the revelation. _He's on the brink, fighting to stay alive._

 _Fighting_ , Fox echoed. _That's more than I can do. Can't even help him because I'm stuck to this STUPID CHAIR!_ He delivered another swift backheel to the chair's leg. His sole throbbed dully and he hung his head in frustration. Grief of how he had failed Peppy swirled around in his head and slowly morphed into faces of their children, who were out there with a dangerous enemy in pursuit.

 _You can't think like that_ , she said. _Not now. The team needs you._ I _need you._ He slowly raised his head. He didn't need her telepathy to see the same fear in her eyes, that it was all she could do not to think of how their whole family could die tonight.

Leaning over, Fox nestled his nose into her hair, offering what comfort he could. _We'll get through this_ , he promised. _All of us._ He hid his doubts at the back of his mind and focused on the optimism for tucked her head under his chin, breathing contentedly, taking his assurance to his relief. Her warmth slowed his heart and head, allowing him to think more clearly.

As his mind worked out different scenarios of escape, his cheek brushed against something round and smooth in her hair. He pulled back a little, nosing through the strands.

 _What is it?_

 _Your braids_ , he told her when they poked through the hair strands. _Quick, lean back into me._ She did and he caught one of the braids between his teeth. The robot guard looked over at them, but from his angle, it seemed that Fox was kissing his wife's head, reassuring her that all would be fine.

When the guard resumed his post, Fox motioned to Krystal. _Okay, slowly sit up. I don't want to hurt you._ He had to tug hard and she winced a time or two as she rose. The braid steadily came out and he dropped it into his hands.

 _What are you planning to do?_ she asked.

 _There's a panel in the middle of these cuffs._ He pulled the beads off the braid until he was left with the metal rod that stranded them together. He ran a finger around the center hold of the cuffs, locating a cut panel and jamming the rod underneath the panel flap. _If I remember right, there should be a couple of wires in here that I can unlock this with. Just have to find them._ He already sensed the question on her mind. _I picked it up from Falco._

 _I wasn't going to say anything_ , she said, a small, lying smile gracing her lips.

It took a couple of minutes of digging around with the metal rod, pulling out wire after wire. Fox cursed how small the wires were and vaguely wondered if he could get a nasty shock from rooting around in a electronic device like this with the bit of metal.

After the umpteenth go-around with the rod, he located what he believed to be the wires and jiggled them out of the panel's opening. Tucking the rod between his fingers, he bent his wrists in a direction not meant to be bent this far, knowing he would regret it if they lived until tomorrow, and snapped the wires, holding two broken pieces tangled around his middle finger.

Gently, not wanting to lose them, he pressed his thumb and pinky along the wires, sliding them together. He received a little shock on his middle knuckle, answering that question, then heard a soft _beep._ The red light on the handcuffs turned green and the locks clicked, freeing his hands.

 _Takes care of that_ , he said to Krystal, keeping his arms behind him and nodding at the soldier. _Now we just have to deal with him._

 _How do you suggest we do that?_

Fox glanced at Lucy. She had yet to take her eyes off her father and seemed to be in such a deep state of shock that Fox was unsure if she could help them. But if was their best shot. _Get Lucy's attention. Tell her to start faking a break-down. Tell the others to help her sell it and get that soldier over here._

While she informed the others of the plan, Fox looked around the small office. There was really nothing he could use as a weapon. And depending on the set-up outside, causing a ruckus could draw more of the guards to the office. While he could only see the one they needed to be rid of at the office door, he wagered there were at least two in the hall overseeing the two exits of the building at either end.

He dangled the handcuffs, testing them, and tried to think back to his fight on the balcony. _These things are programmed not to kill us. At least not yet._ Dash likely hadn't changed that order yet. _He would want to pull the trigger himself.. Could probably use that to my advantage._

Once the whole team had been informed of the plan, he nodded to Lucy. She certainly already _looked_ the part, splotchy tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and a general sense that she was being held together by string. About the same as Fox himself when Peppy delivered the news of his father's death. In fact, Lucy was doing better than he had, as he broke down almost immediately, certainly in no mood to continue on for revenge right away. He was proud of Lucy for that.

Then again, her father might still be alive. And if Fox had anything to say about it, she certainly wasn't going to have to go through the full experience that he had. All she needed to do now was sell it. _Please let this work._

She hung her head and her shoulder shook, wracking her thin body. She moaned low in her throat, earning a brief glance from the soldier.

 _She needs to do more_ , he told Krystal. She passed on the message to Lucy and her moans grew louder, turning into wails. "Dad," she said. "Please, Dad! Dad, I-I can't! Don't go! Please!" She kicked and fought in her chair, broke down into sobs, jerked her chair toward Peppy, trying to at least reach him with her head. Fox wondered just how much of this was an act.

When she started to push aside Slippy's chair, the soldier decided to intervene. "Cease this at once or you will be punished," he said, entering the room, holding his rifle. Lucy pretended not to hear him and cried louder for her father.

The soldier stepped closer, showing off the rifle to her threateningly. "Failure to comply will result in your termination," it said.

When it was within range, Fox leapt out of his seat, handcuffs swinging through the air, and slapped them on the soldier's wrists with a satisfied _click!_ The soldier looked down, processing the sudden action, and Fox took the opportunity to grab the rifle.

The soldier was faster on the uptake and tightened his fingers around the trigger and handle of the rifle. "Release me or you will be shot," it droned. It forced the gun barrel toward Fox, its finger still on the trigger, but he sensed some hesitation in it.

"Go ahead," Fox called its bluff. "Shoot me. Better than waiting for that weasely chimp to do it."

His opponent seemed to be running through its options. The only logical one was to radio for more back-up, which Fox couldn't allow. He swung the soldier around, dancing with it beside the chairs, and signaled Krystal. _Now!_ he said mentally.

She kicked out her foot, tripping the soldier, and Fox tumbled over its face, the rifle now securely in his own hands. He turned around, considered shooting the robot, then decided against the noise. He flipped the gun over and jammed its butt down into the soldier's head, again and again and again, smashing through its visor and the mechanisms underneath. The body flailed and tried to fight back, but soon slowed to spasms like a fish on land. After several blows, Fox reached some center that ended the fight and the robot's joints whined down and stopped.

"You alright?" he asked Krystal.

"Yes."

"Fox," Lucy said and he nodded. He rushed to Peppy's side and checked his chest. "Is he alive?"

He held up a hand and listened close. Tense moments passed before he heard a dull thud. It was faint, very faint, but it was followed by another one not long afterwards. "He's alive." He meant to sound relieved, but his grim tone betrayed how precarious Peppy's life hung.

"Can we get him to a hospital?" Amanda asked.

"I doubt he would make it." He examined the burn wound in Peppy's chest, hardly able to look at it. _C'mon, you've seen plenty of injuries before._ That didn't make it any easier now. "The laser bolt seared a lot. If we don't stabilize him, taking him to a hospital will be useless."

"The Academy has an on-site clinic," Slippy said. "We could use that."

"But all the doctors and nurses are rounded up," Krystal pointed out. "And once Dash finds us missing, he may execute them."

Fox tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, here's what we'll do. First, we need to get out of here," he picked up the gun, grabbed the handcuff keycard off the dead soldier, and turned the others around. "Once we're out of here, Slippy, you help Lucy with Peppy and lead her to the clinic," he said, swiping the keycard over everyone's handcuffs and freeing them. "Krystal, Amanda, and I will go to the gym and rescue the others. We'll bring a doctor, nurse, whoever is left, back to the clinic."

"Sounds good to me," Slippy said, looking to Lucy.

She sniffed, rubbing her wrists, and agreed. "Thank you."

"No problem. Just get him to the clinic and do whatever you can. Everyone, fall in line behind me."

He went to the front office door, peering out with his rifle, and spotted two soldiers in the hallway. Three more were outside, ready to be taken out. Quickly, he double-tapped the pair in the hallway in their heads, hustling the others on and ordering Krystal, Slippy, and Amanda to retrieve the dead soldiers' weapons.

As they ran for the exits, Krystal asked, _Do you actually have a plan to free those in the gym?_

Fox shrugged sheepishly. _Well, you know, the usual._

 _Wing it. Got it_ , she smiled, cocking her rifle.

 **A/N:** As always-

 **Pen:** It took longer than you thought. Got it. Move on.

Yes, well, thank you all for reading so far and please let us know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9: Winged Deathtrap

**A/N:** New chapter?

 **Sword:** New chapter! Hit it!

 **Pen:** Ow! Don't punch me, you twit!

As always, Marcus, Fox, and all related material belong to Nintendo. Sword, Pen, and the story belong to me. Please do not use without permission. And thank you to Troy Groomes and kristinalprime23 for their reviews on the previous chapter.

 **Sword:** Enjoy it to the max!

 **Pen:** Ow! You little- Come here!

 **Chapter 9- Winged Deathtrap**

Falco whistled low as Bill pulled a large sheet off an aircraft hidden underneath. "She shor' is a beaut', Bill," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Could only scavenge so much in such short time." He had led them from the little area the soldiers had holed up in, down a maze of underground tunnels, and to a small hanger still intact, with the shuttered doors and windows. The only light in the area were lamps placed strategically on top of plane parts, boxes, and chairs to offer enough light to work with, but scant enough to avoid detection through any cracks in the closed windows.

"No, I'm serious," Falco said, walking around it, sticking his tongue in his cheek and on the verge of laughing at every angle of his examination. "She's a prize we don't deserve. Scrap the Arwings, this is what the Cornerian fleet needs."

As Bill punched his shoulder, Marcus was taking the cobbled together mess in less stride. If the bomb had been crude, this was downright dirty, with bits and pieces taken from the Anglar ships to construct a battered plane. The wings were uneven and mismatched, with one burned to a crisp at its end. The cockpit was wide open and had console boards dangling out of it, as if in the middle of being put together. And what little weaponry there was consisted of small arm blasters, a missile or two, and anything else that could be bolted to the underside.

He and Val leaned in close to Tad for his opinion. "What do you think?" he asked, hoping for better news.

Tad's face was more heavy with frown lines than his own as he did a walkaround with them. "Landing gear seems unstable. Probably fall apart if you come in too fast," he said, tapping the wheels and making the whole plane shudder. He carefully climbed one of the wings and checked the inside, rooting around in the cockpit. "It'll get you in the air, but you won't be dogfighting in this."

"What about the weapons?"

"Good for maybe taking out one ship, but the kickback of one of those missiles might tear this thing apart." Tad hopped out and checked the back, now joined by Falco and Bill. "Very little thrust. If, and I mean a big _if_ , you can get off the ground, you won't be flying far. That's assuming the bomb will be strapped down inside?" he asked Bill, pointing to a steel carriage underneath the plane, waiting at the open mouth of the cargo hold.

"That's the idea," Bill said."We also added an extra engine that's been bellowing a lot of smoke. It can give you a bit of cover."

"Yeah, I guess you could fly it slow and use that, pretend to be injured," Tad said. "But it'll be dangerous, with slim chance to work."

"That's better than my usual odds," Falco said. "I can take it up, drop it off, then we detonate it from afar."

"Yes," Bill said, "except for the part where you hog the glory for yourself. This is a two-man job. While you'll be able to land in the hanger, the bomb needs to be taken further inside." He grabbed a blueprint off a nearby chair and drew a shape of the ship on the back of it. "From what we know of the Anglars, their engine room should be somewhere around here," he said, circling a spot near the bottom. "It's below the hanger. You'll need two people to carry the bomb down there."

"Alright," Falco sighed and looked at the three students. "I'll take Junior with me."

Bill seemed mildly surprised. "You sure? It won't be safe."

"Doubt there _are_ any safe spots on this rock," Falco pointed out. "Besides, he could use the experience." He turned to Marcus. "You're good, right?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good," Marcus said, putting on a brave face. Tad's analysis of the plane still circled in his mind and he wondered if it was too late to draft a last will and testimony.

"You can take the other two with you," Falco said to Bill. "Calamity Jane's a crackshot and Tex there, well, maybe he'll earn his hat riding along with you."

Tad steamed, but Val slipped an arm around his shoulder. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and leading him back down the tunnels. "We better get ready."

"As had we," Falco said, patting Marcus' back while Bill left to retrieve the bomb. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Marcus said.

Falco picked up on the wavering tone in his voice. "Think we might die?"

"Do you?"

The older bird gave it less than a moment of thought. "Probably."

"Great."

"No chance of survival. Fiery crash. Shot down, perhaps."

"I get it."

"In normal circumstances anyway." Falco smiled. "But there's something special that I think will help us. Something that runs in your family, that your father had an abundance of, and that I think he passed down to you."

Marcus was almost afraid to ask, because all the answers didn't seem likely. Skill? Not compared to the legends he had heard. A tactical mind? He was going through all this by the seat of his pants. "What's that?"

""Dumb luck," Falco said, chuckling. "The McClouds have it in spades. And there's no other force in the universe that can compete with that."

Marcus shoved him, shaking his head, and Falco pushed him back into the plane. The wheels rumbled, threatening to drop the nose to the ground. "Watch it," Falco said, pulling him away from the aircraft. "It'd be pretty unfair to this Frankstein deathtrap if we didn't let it kill us in the air."

Marcus laughed, holding his sides and feeling better than before. Not about their chances at all, but better.

* * *

"On my mark," Fox said, taking a knee and aiming steadily at the head of one of the soldiers outside.

"Ready," Krystal and Amanda said.

"Drop 'em." Three single shots and then all three of the soldiers fell, their heads sizzling from the blaster bolts that bore straight through their temples. After looting them, they came across a couple of plasma knives, still with energy left. _Should make taking these things out without attracting attention a little easier._

"Okay, Slippy and Lucy, get going," Fox said, handing them a pistol and rifle. "We'll be there soon."

"Right." Slippy and Amanda gave one another a kiss for good luck, then he hurried with Lucy, carrying Peppy between them and out into the pouring rain.

"He'll be fine," Krystal whispered to Amanda, patting her back. Fox nodded in agreement, then led them in the opposite direction, toward the gymnasium.

By the time they reached the gym, they were soaked to the bone and Fox's clothes seemed like dead weights on his shoulders and legs. They took what little shelter there was of the short roof jutting out over the grass. Sliding along the wall, they paused as a soldier exited from the back doors. The soldier walked on, unaware of them, and into the storm, out and about on its patrol.

Once the soldier faded into the rain, Fox cracked the door, fighting against the roaring wind to not let it fling wide open and expose him. They were at the locker room again, with no enemy in sight. _Doesn't mean someone isn't still watching_ , he thought.

He beckoned Krystal and Amanda over. _Sense anything?_ he asked his wife.

She closed her eyes for a moment, stretching out with her ability. _The hostages are still inside. Scared, confused, some hurt. I don't sense Dash anywhere nearby._

 _Doubt he still is here_ , Fox said as her eyes fluttered open. _Anything else?_

 _No, but we should stay alert._

That went without saying. He pulled open the door, watching their backs as they entered, then closed the door quietly as he stepped in. They paused, holding their breath, waiting to be discovered once more and called into the gym over the intercom. But nothing happened. It was dead silent.

Fox approached the door to the gym proper and peeked through the window slits in the door. As Krystal had said, all the hostages were still here, gathered in a splash of floodlight, with soldiers patrolling around them or standing guard atop bleachers and catwalks in the rafters

"Alright," Fox said softly, huddling with the other two. "I count at least a dozen of those robots, maybe more. We'll need to take them out before we can move the hostages." He scratched his chin. "The only question is how?"

"What about the skylights?" Amanda asked, pointing to the roof of the gym. Above, gray storm clouds shrouded any light from entering the glass panels. "I'm sure we could crack one open."

"But with the rain, the soldiers will notice when water starts coming in," Fox said. "We have to be quiet and quick about this, or one of the hostages could get hurt."

"We could sneak in and take out the ones on the rafters. Work our way down," Krystal said, pointing out the ladder right outside the door."

"Well, what about the ones on the ground?" Fox asked. "I'm sure you could sneak up the ladder to the rafters fast so the ones on the ground wouldn't notice, but the one on top of the bleacher to the left..." he trailed off, seeing a dark cavity behind the bleachers, complete with metal bars that he could easily climb up. "Actually, that may work."

Krystal picked up on his idea. "Yeah, you and Amanda could take out that one."

"Might be a tight fit, but maybe," Amanda said, once Fox explained his idea.

"Okay then," he said, passing Krystal one of the plasma knives. She pressed a button to test it, smiling as a thin, purple shaft of light shot out into the shape of a blade. "Be careful."

"You too," she said, pecking his lips.

They waited until a gap appeared in the patrolling soldiers and snuck into the gym, Krystal immediately turning right and scampering up the ladder. Meanwhile, Fox and Amanda crouched and hurried over to the bleachers, out of sight of everyone.

Fox climbed up the bleachers from the dark space behind them, having flashbacks of entangling himself on monkey bars and jungle gyms as a kid, and worked his way up to the top row. Below him, Amanda steadied herself on some lower rungs, ready to catch their prey.

The soldier's feet were at Fox's eye level. The robotic soldier itself was watching the hostages and gazing everywhere except at the vulpine crawling onto the top bleacher and raising the luminous knife above it. Fox plunged the knife into the robot's head to the hilt and caught the rifle it held before it clattered down the rows.

For a moment, the robot jittered, twitched, then powered down in his arms. Fox handed off the rifle to Amanda below, then lowered the body, careful not to let it clang against the metal bars. Amanda grunted and puffed out her breath as the thing's weight settled on her. Fox made a hold-on motion with his hand as he climbed down, while she jerked her head side to side, silently screaming for him to move faster and help share the load.

They laid the body beneath the bleachers, tucked away where it wouldn't be found. Then Fox checked on Krystal. She had already dispatched the first soldier on the rafters, its body slumped and dangling, and crept toward the next one. With utmost precision, she dug the knife into the back of its head, twisting and turning the blade, and then set it carefully on the rafters as well.

 _She is amazing_ , was all Fox could think as he and Amanda moved to the next guard on the bleachers, sticking to the shadows and maneuvering through the metal rungs. However, as Fox got into position, this next particular soldier looked up and noticed Krystal sneaking back to the ladder. It readied its rifle, its visor flaring up with red neon light, and Fox could practically hear it beginning to radio Krystal's position.

There was no time to waste. Hopping up as fast as he could, he jammed the plasma knife into the soldier's neck, tearing through the metal and twisting its helmet in the opposite direction until it was sufficiently dead. He stumbled back with it, banging its body against the wall and bleachers. Amanda was below him to cushion the body's fall, but the damage was done.

Around them on the ground, the other soldiers took notice of their comrades' absence from the bleachers and started to spread out, scanning the room. One went for the ladder. The same ladder that Krystal had started to climb down.

She noticed the enemy beneath her and scampered back up the rungs, dashing across the metal catwalk and to the opposite end. However, the shaking of the catwalk dislogded one of the bodies and it slipped over the side. Fox held his breath as Krystal screeched to a halt, pivoted, and snatched at the body's foot.

It was just out of her reach.

The body plummeted to the ground, making no sound until its heavy, earth-shattering _thwomp!_ in the middle of the gym. All the soldiers turned toward it, curious about the dead weight dropped in the middle of their group, then looked skywards.

Fox pulled out his rifle. No sense in sneaking anymore. "Attack!" he yelled, shooting the nearest soldier. It went down before it could react and he fired at the next one.

By then, the soldiers were alert and sprinted for cover, already racing around to flank Fox and Amanda. Krystal shot off the soldier on the ladder and provided support from above. Laser bolts ripped through the air, scorching the walls and floor all around them. However, thanks to their initiative, Fox's group had the soldiers caught in a cross-fire and blew them apart easily, leaving only four still operating.

This small squad of soldiers quickly retaliated, standing in the middle of the hostages, a couple even wrapping them arms tight around a hostage's neck and using them as a shield. Fox and Amanda couldn't get a good sight on them and ducked back into cover behind the bleachers.

"Cowards!" Fox bellowed. He angled his rifle for a shot, but couldn't line up a bead with them without sticking his whole body out of cover. The moment the tip of his rifle came out, laser bolts sizzled past, striking the bleachers and wall behind them.

"What do we do?" Amanda asked.

"Surrender now or we will execute the prisoners," one of the soldiers said. "You have thirty seconds to comply."

Fox figured that this threat was real, unlike the idle ones made to his team. Dash wanted Fox's team alive to witness his triumph and execute them personally.. The other hostages were expendable to him. The soldiers had them at an impasse. Fox couldn't risk shooting the hostages. And Krystal was still exposed in the rafters. He looked down to the end of the bleachers, as if expecting a solution to present itself.

"Fox?" Amanda said.

"Just give a minute," he said, reaching out to Krystal. _Do you have a lock on them?_

 _No_ , she said. _I have two on me. One with a hostage._

Fox cursed and peered out again. There was no way around this. Not unless Slippy and Lucy had the sudden inclination to join them at this exact moment.

"Ten seconds left," the soldier said. "Come out now or we will kill them."

"Alright, alright," Fox said. "We're coming out. Just," he sighed, "just don't hurt them."

"Throw out your weapons." Fox slid his rifle across the floor, as did Amanda. "Now come out with your hands up."

Fox raised his hands high and together with Amanda, they slowly crawled out of cover.

* * *

Bill and his people had the bomb strapped to the Anglar ship within the hour, leaving Marcus little time to prepare himself. A couple of soldiers stood by the hangar doors, ready to throw them open.

Meanwhile, Bill passed out weapons, grenades, and any other supplies to his group, Val, and Tad while going over the details of their mission again. "As soon as they set off the bomb, it's going to be a real hornet's nest. So we need to have both squads in position, ready to storm the command center as soon as possible. Squad A is with me and we'll be radioing for help." He nodded to Tad. "Squad B's job is to get the data for the Orbital Gate Station and any other sensitive material out of there." Valerie stood ready with her squad. "Any questions?"

"No, sir!" they said.

"Good. Your signal is the explosion. Once it goes off, hit the command center hard. Dismissed."

Tad and Val broke off from their respective squads and joined Marcus. "Guess this is it," he said, failing to hide the goosebumps chilling his bones. "Don't you two go dying on me."

"We should be saying that to you," Tad said, clasping his hand and giving him a one-armed embrace.

Valerie hugged Marcus. "Watch yourself up there."

"Tad!" Bill called. "Ready up! I need you over here."

"Yes, sir," he said and turned back. "I better go." He looked up at Valerie and took a shuddering breath. "Be careful." His voice was soft and quiet.

She smiled and bent down to his level, cradling his cheek. "Same goes for you." She pecked his nose and ran off for her squad. Tad was momentarily cross-eyed until he noticed Marcus giving him a strange look. "What?"

"Me, what? You, what? What was that?"

"Nothing. Just, you know, care between friends. That's all, nothing more." He sounded both wistful and disheartened. "Uh, I think Bill is calling again. Got to go." He jogged off to the hound and his own squad

Marcus was sure that there had been something more to the moment just now, but Falco's slap on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. "Enough high school drama, Junior. Let's get going."

Marcus started up the ladder for the pilot's seat until Falco pointed him to the rear gunner's chair. "This will take a deft hand to fly it."

"I have that," Marcus said.

"And experience." Falco shoved him up and over into the rear seat. "You can fly on the way back. I need you in the gunner's seat." Marcus opened his mouth to protest. "Remember what I said about trust?"

He sat back in the seat and groaned to himself. Bill climbed up, ensuring they were strapped down tight and checking the seatbelts. "I don't suppose this has any eject buttons?"

"Oh, they do," Bill said. "But we were only able to repair yours and attach a parachute to it. The front one's shot."

"Then, if something happens..."

"The captain goes down with his ship," Falco said from the front seat. "Or in this case, the pilot."

Bill gave Marcus a worried frown and hopped off as Falco lowered the cockpit's cover. Had Falco known about his seat's malfunction already? As Marcus pondered this, the soldiers opened the hangar doors and Falco interrupted his musings once more. "Ready back there?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Ready."

"Try to relax. We'll have you back to your dad in no time." He flipped several switches on the console ahead of him and the plane rumbled to life, lifting off the ground. As it did, the cockpit shook so much that Marcus couldn't see straight. "No hurling. Just cleaned this baby," Falco joked. "Hands on the triggers. We may have company."

Marcus grabbed hold of his chair and focused on the gunner sticks before him, his fingers trembling over the triggers. He said silent prayers to himself as they took off toward the flagship.

 **A/N:** Okay, and in the next chapter-

 **Sword:** Action! Explosions!

 **Pen:** How about you write at least one story without those?

 **Sword:** You're not familiar with my work or my instrumental figure.

 **Pen:** Wow, four syllables. Impressive.

 **Sword:** Jerk.

So, let's wrap up. Thank you all for reading and please let us know what you think so far. We love hearing from all of you.


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